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THE SPY 


A TALE OF THE NEUTRAL GROUND 


j. fenimoRe" GefoPER 


EDITED WITH INTRODUCTION AND NOTES 

BY 

SAMUEL THUEBER, JR. 

NEWTON HIGH SCHOOL, NEWTONVILLE, MASS. 


“ Breathes there the man, with soul so dead, 
Who never to himself hath said, 

This is my own, my native land ! — ” 


jSTelB gork 

THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 

1909 


All rights reserved 


LIBRARY of CONGRESS 
Two CoDies Received 

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Copyriiint Entry 
CLASS gJ. XXc. No. 
COPY 3. 



Copyright, 1909, 

By the MACMILLAN COMPANY. 


Set up and electrotyped. Published February, 1909. 



NortoaotJ ^Prcsa 

J. 8. Cushing Co. — Berwick & Smith Co. 
Norwood, Mass., U.S.A. 


CONTENTS 


Introduction page 

Cooper’s Life and Works ix 

Bibliography xxiv 

To the Teacher xxiv 

Author’s Introduction xxvii 

The Spy 1 

Notes 413 


vii 




INTRODUCTION 

A SKETCH OF COOPER’S LIFE AND WORK 


Lives of 
Cooper 


One of the last requests which Cooper made before his 
death was that all private papers and documents pertain- 
ing to his life and works should be withheld 
from the public. As a result of this request, 
no authorized, exhaustive biography of our 
greatest American novelist has ever been published. 
Nevertheless, we have in Professor T. R. Lounsbury’s Life 
of Cooper in the American Men of Letters series (Houghton, 
Mifflin; Boston, 1883), not merely an admirable account 
of the author of the Leatherstocking Tales, but also a book 
which is at once interesting, scholarly, and distinctly of 
literary value. It is generally accepted now as the standard 
work on Cooper. From it is necessarily taken much of the 
material for the brief sketch that follows; and to its pages 
all who are interested in The Spy should turn for fuller 
information and further criticism. 

James Fenimore Cooper was born in Burlington, New 
Jersey, on September 15, 1789, the eleventh of twelve 
children, most of whom died in infancy or in 
youth. His father, William Cooper, came of 
‘‘good English stock”; his mother, Elizabeth 
Fenimore, was of Swedish descent, and among the ancestors 
of both there were Quakers. Burlington, fortunately, was 
not to be the home of the growing boy; for in 1790 his 
father moved with family and servants from New Jersey to 
the shores of Otsego Lake in New York, where he owned vast 
tracts of timberland along the upper waters of the Sus- 
quehanna. Here in 1799 he completed a spacious mansion, 
Otsego Hall, which for many years remained the largest 
house in the vicinity, and the centre of the social life of the 
frontier village which rapidly sprung up about its extensive 
grounds. When thirty-five years later it came into the 
hands of his illustrious son, it was still “The Hall,” — the 
manor-house of Cooperstown. 


Birth and 
parentage 


X 


INTRODUCTION 


In the literary work of few men can we trace the influence 
of early environment so clearly as in the novels of Cooper. 
Otsego Hall, in his boyhood, was in the wilderness. ^ About 
. him he saw civilization conquering with axe 
plough virgin forests and rough fields, 
which, a generation before, had been unknown 
to white men. Pioneers with their families were constantly 
arriving from the east, some to settle in the rich valleys of the 
Susquehanna, others to move on farther west to the plains. 
In the dense woods, which extended from the shores of the 
lake in all directions, were deer and wolves, the lynx and 
the bear. Everywhere lurked the silent, mysterious Indian, 
now peaceably visiting the little settlement to trade with 
the inhabitants, now on the war-path in paint and feathers, 
making it unsafe to pass beyond the limits of the clearing. 
Many boys would have been little affected by such sur- 
roundings as these. Upon Cooper’s mind the wild grandeur 
of nature about him, the struggles of pioneers with hard- 
ships and Indians, made a lasting impression. So clearly 
did he see and hear everything that w^ent on among the 
backwoodsmen of Cooperstown, that twenty years later he 
turned to that early life for the material of his most success- 
ful novels. The five Leatherstocking Tales are thus the 
fruit of the years at Otsego Hall; and apart from The Spy 
and The Pilot, Cooper’s fame to-day rests almost entirely 
upon his five stories of pioneer life. 

The first formal education that the boy obtained was at 
the village school of Cooperstown, which was dignified 
■Po-rUr “The Academy.” From here 

tion and col-' father sent him to Albany, where he became 
lege ^ private pupil in the family of the rector of 

St. Peter’s Church. In a little more than a 
year Rev. Mr. Ellison died, and Cooper entered Yale as a 
freshman in January, 1803. He was then thirteen years old, 
with one exception the youngest member of his class. Of his 
life while at college we know but little. Probably he cared 
more for outdoor play than for study; possibly he had 
difficulty from the outset with the faculty. At any rate, 
in his third year he was involved in a serious matter of 
college discipline, and was expelled. Cooper thus left Yale 
in 1805, without a degree, his formal education at an end. 


INTRODUCTION 


XI 


Had he pursued, with seriousness and persistence, the full 
course of study for four years, in all probability his stories 
would have been more accurately written ; for, as Professor 
Lounsbury remarks, '‘the lack of certain qualities in his 
writings, which educated men perhaps are the only ones to 
notice, can be traced pretty directly to this lack of pre- 
liminary intellectual drill.” 

What was the boy of sixteen to do ? At this time Cooper’s 
father was a member of the Federalist party in Congress. 
The navv Therefore, depending somewhat upon his father’s 
^ political and social influence for rapid advance- 
ment, and also induced by a natural love of the sea, he 
decided to enter the American navy. In 1805, the Naval 
Academy at Annapolis had not been established; con- 
sequently Cooper followed the customary course of prepa- 
ration of his day : he shipped as a sailor on a merchant- 
man, and in August, 1806, he sailed before the mast on his 
first voyage from New York to London. After more than 
a year of experience at sea, in Spain and in England, he 
was finally given a regular midshipman’s commission in 
January, 1808, and became a member of the American 
navy. For three years more his life on board ship con- 
tinued, part of the time on the Great Lakes, where he had 
new opportunities to witness frontier life, part of the time 
in foreign ports, frequently on long voyages on the high 
seas. Of exact information concerning each year we have 
none ; but we know from his stories of sailor-life, especially 
from The Pilot, that Cooper’s faculties of observation — 
of seeing clearly, and writing indelibly on his mind what 
he saw — were never more active than during these years 
of service in the navy. If one strikes out from the novels 
those chapters that deal with life in the forest and life on 
the ocean, there is little left to give them a place in the 
front rank of American literature. 

In May, 1811, just as a brilliant career seemed to be 
opening before him. Cooper resigned his position in the 
Marriage navy. Three months before his resignation 
and resig- was accepted, he had married a Miss De Lancey, 
nation from whose family had supported the crown during 
the navy the Revolution, and whose relatives had been 
officers in the British army. Scarcely a year after the 


INTRODUCTION 


xii 


marriage, war with England, which had long been threaten- 
ing, was declared. The situation offered opportunities for 
unpleasant criticism, and detractors were not wanting. 
Later in his life Cooper’s enemies openly suggested that his 
sudden resignation from the navy was due to ‘‘undemocratic 
and Tory principles.” We may dismiss these, and other 
similar stories, as entirely groundless. Cooper was not a 
coward to avoid war, and in spite of his bitter arraignments 
of his countrymen, he was heart and soul an American. 
His reasons for leaving the sea, like many motives that 
prompted him throughout his life, are not clear to us to-day; 
but the probabilities are that he felt it his duty to give up 
an occupation which separated him from his young wife 
for all but a few weeks of the year. At any rate, for the 
nine years following his marriage, he lived quietly and 
happily ashore, first with his wife’s father at Heathcote 
Hall, Mamaroneck, in Westchester County, north of New 
York City; then for three years in Cooperstown, and finally, 
after 1817, again in Westchester, in the town of Scarsdale, 
where his wife could be near her parents. Here, in a house 
commanding a wide view of the surrounding country and 
the Sound, the family lived until literary activities called 
Cooper to the metropolis. 

It is interesting to note that between 1811 and 1820, 
the year when he left the navy and the year that saw the 
^ . publication of his first novel. Cooper not only 

maLfarmer nothing, but made no plans or prepara- 

tions for writing. Not once, as far as we know, 
did the thought of being a man of letters occur to him. 
He seems to have been wholly ignorant of the powers that 
were latent within his mind. Professor Lounsbury says 
of him: “Surrounded by his growing family, he led for 
the two or three years following 1817, a life that gave no 
indication of what was to be his career. His thoughts 
were principally directed to improving the little estate 
that had come into his possession. He planted trees; he 
built fences; he drained swamps; he planned a lawn. The 
one thing which he did not do was to write.” 

Cooper was thus a respectable, though humble, “ gentle- 
man-farmer,” thirty years old and the father of six children, 
when the merest chance led him to authorship. He was 


INTROD UCTION 


Xlll 


" Precau- 
tion ” 


reading, we are told, a novel of English life of the day, when, 
disgusted with the general weakness of the book, he ex- 
claimed, “I believe I could write a better story myself!” 
His wife, who heard his remark, challenged him to make 
good his boast; accordingly he took his pen in 
hand and set to work. The result was Precau- 
tion, which was published in two volumes in 
New York, on the 10th of November, 1820. This is a date 
significant enough to remember. It marks the opening 
of Cooper’s literary career. It marks also, in a way, the 
beginning of the history of the American novel. The fact, 
however, that Precaution was written, is to-day the only 
interest which we have in it. As a novel it was wholly 
a failure. The story deals with English people and English 
social life, about which Cooper knew absolutely nothing 
from personal observation. He wrote, therefore, in a vague, 
unconvincing manner, without character and without inci- 
dent, apparently without any interest except to improve 
certain glaring faults in the novel which had been re- 
sponsible for his taking up his pen. The work did not 
thus spring from an inspiration, but from a feeling of dis- 
gust. As a consequence. Precaution illustrates all the 
weaknesses of Cooper as a novelist, and little of his ability. 
Indeed, it is not going too far to say that if he had written 
all of his later series in the style and spirit of the first, 
his name to-day would be completely forgotten. 

Though Precaution was itself not a success, it led the 
way directly to those novels which gave their author last- 
ing fame. A few friends who had become interested in 
Cooper’s literary endeavors advised him to write another 
“TheS ” which, however, should deal with more 

local themes, and give him an opportunity to de- 
scribe people and things he had seen. Under such circum- 
stances it would have been only natural for an author to turn 
to the Revolutionary War, — then but a little more than a 
generation away, — as a field of intense interest to every 
American, and one which, strange as it may seem, had not 
been utilized by novelist or romancer. Several years before 
he wrote Precaution, Cooper had been told by John Jay 
of a pedler who had lived in Westchester County during 
the war. This man had been employed by Washington as 


XIV 


INTRODUCTION 


a spy, in which capacity he rendered services of inestimable 
value to the American cause, though by all Americans, 
except the commander-in-chief of the army, he was sus- 
pected of being a traitor to the colonies and in the service of 
Sir Henry Clinton. As a result, he had been persecuted 
and hunted down by both armies, — captured, punished, 
and many times sentenced to death, but somehow he had 
always escaped before the moment of his execution. Thus 
hated and reviled he died, a martyr to the cause to which 
he had been devoted. Not until after his death did the 
true character of his work become known. Around this 
story, then. Cooper built up his second tale; and in New 
York on the 22d of December, 1821, The Spy: A Tale of 
the Neutral Ground, was published. 

Cooper was far from sanguine about the success of his 
novel. So discouraged was he with the failure of Pre- 
caution that at one time it seemed as though 
of "The^pv” would be left by the author unfinished. 

In the preface of a later edition he writes: 
“So little was expected from an original work of this de- 
scription, at the time it was written, that the first volume 
was actually printed several months before the author felt 
a sufficient inducement to write a line of the second.’’ Un- 
doubtedly any efforts to make the tale superior to Pre- 
caution were half-hearted, and had The Spy been another 
failure, Cooper would have probably abandoned once for 
all the field of letters. But he had misjudged his own 
powers. From the first day of its sale The Spy was a com- 
plete success. Edition after edition was consumed as fast 
as it came from the press. In one year more copies were sold 
than had ever before been sold of any book written by an 
American. The popularity of the story, in fact, was so 
instantaneous and so far-reaching that it determined Cooper’s 
career. The following year he left Westchester and moved 
into New York City, to give himself up, heart and soul, 
to the profession of writing. 

In the introduction to the revised edition of The Spy, 
published in 1849, Cooper wrote these significant words: 
“As the second volume was slowly printing, from manu- 
script that was barely dry when it went into the com- 
positor’s hands, the publisher intimated that the work 


INTRODUCTION 


XV 


might grow to a length that would consume the profits. 
To set his mind at rest, the last chapter was actually 
. written, printed, and paged several weeks 
Literature in the chapters which precede it were 

thought of. This circumstance, while it 
cannot excuse, may serve to explain the man- 
ner in which the actors are hurried off the scene.” The 
fact that the publisher feared the cost of the book 
“might consume the profits” suggests the general feeling 
that existed in 1821 with regard to works by American 
authors. In England, at this time, everything in the 
United States was scorned as “ cheap, new, provincial.” 
Even after there had come to be a very solid respect for 
American institutions and enterprise, Englishmen were 
loath to admit that anything great in literature could come 
out of the Western Hemisphere. Irving’s sketches and 
Cooper’s earlier novels, more than anything else, began to 
pierce the tough armor of British prejudice. 

It is true, however, that in the year 1821 there had been 
practically nothing written in America worth reading, 
certainly nothing that has lasted, with the exception of 
The Sketch Book and Franklin’s Autobiography, which was 
not published until 1868. Cultivated Americans, there- 
fore, looked still to the mother country for their literature. 
They even went so far as to believe, with the English critics, 
that nothing, after all, really worth while, could be written 
in the United States. As one writer has said, — “ The 
Spy proved to a self-conscious generation that it was not 
at all impossible for an American to write a book worthy of 
beingj-anked with the Waverley Novels.” More perhaps even 
than Irving, Cooper’s stories carried a favorable impression 
of American men of letters to every country of Europe, — 
an impression which from 1821 to the present day has 
steadily been growing more pleasant and more flattering. 

Charles Brockden Brown, in one of his novels now almost 
wholly forgotten, had revealed, the possibilities of making 
_ , an interesting story out of frontier life among 

1 S 23-1820 backwoodsmen and Indians. It remained 
for Cooper to develop and picture this life in lasting and 
artistic form in the five novels which to-day are known as 
The Leather stocking Tales, from their hero. Leatherstocking, 


XVI 


INTRODUCTION 


whose fortunes are carried through the five volumes. It 
was in 1823, just after he moved to New York City, that he 
published The Pioneers, the first of the series to be written, 
though not the first in a chronological order of events. 
To-day one should read Cooper’s five-act drama” in the 
order of historical unfolding of the life of Natty Bumpo, 
or Leatherstocking, which is as follows: The Deerslayer 
(1841), The Last of the Mohicans (1826), The PathfivAer 
(1840), The Pioneers (1823), The Prairie (1827). In The 
Pioneers Cooper turned back to his early memories of wild, 
outdoor life around Otsego Lake. The lesson which he 
had learned from Precaution and The Spy sent him 
naturally to scenes and characters with which he was 
familiar. Among Indians and scenery of forest and moun- 
tain he was at home. Indeed, it is doubtful if there is a 
novel in our literature which has more grand or noble 
descriptions of nature, especially of hills and woods, brawl- 
ing streams, and far inland lakes. The background of 
the story surpasses in artistic beauty anything its author 
did in his later works. Of the descriptions Balzac said: 
‘‘Never did the art of writing tread closer upon the art of 
the pencil. This is the school of study for literary land- 
scape painters.” In incident and rapidity of action the 
tale falls far below The Spy. Nevertheless, the book was 
widely appreciated and served only to increase Cooper’s 
fame and popularity among American readers. 

The merest chance incident had, as we have seen, im- 
pelled Cooper to write Precaution. From a somewhat 
“TV. -D-i V” similar chance inspiration, he now wrote a 
182 / ^ much greater novel. The Pilot. In 1822 he 
^ had attended a dinner in New York where the 

subject of the authorship of the Waverley Novels, then 
still in some doubt, came under discussion. The Pirate, 
which had just been anonymously published in Edinburgh, 
one of the company affirmed could not have been written 
by Scott, for Scott was a landsman, and The Pirate was 
unmistakably the work of a man who had lived many 
years at sea. With this opinion Cooper differed. He 
maintained that the story was written by a landsman, 
probably by Scott, for he believed that one familiar with 
the sea would have made better and more effective use of 


INTRODUCTION 


XVll 


his knowledge than had the author of The Pirate. Sev- 
eral gentlemen who heard his argument were not convinced, 
and therefore, to prove his case, he wrote The Pilot, 
the first story ever written which deals very largely with 
ocean life, and by many people still regarded as the best. 
Cooper’s year before the mast and his later experience 
in the navy had given him a large experience to draw 
from; but, best of all, his masterly power of word painting 
enabled him to put before the reader, in a most realistic 
way, what was in his mind and imagination. The Pilot 
alone would have made its author famous. We can only 
regret that he did not continue in the same strain ; for had 
he written six more novels of similar character and equal 
merit, instead of the twenty-six he wrote about things with 
which he had little or no sympathy, he would to-day be 
ranked among the chief writers of the nineteenth century. 

A year later, when The Pilot was on every tongue, came 
Lionel Lincoln. Never did Cooper try harder to make 
, a story a success. Never did he fail more 

coln°” 182?' completely. All his elaborate preparations for 
^ writing the story went for naught: his heart 
was not with his pen. The novel is a tale of the opening 
battles of the Revolution in Massachusetts ; but with 
everything pertaining to New England and Puritan char- 
acter Cooper had no sympathy. Though the description of 
the Battle of Bunker Hill is admirable, the most exact, 
according to the historian Bancroft, which has been written, 
the story as a whole is hopelessly dull. The plot is weak; 
the action drags; the characters are wooden. To-day 
there are few people who have even heard of the title of 
the novel. 

As evidence that the failure of Lionel Lincoln was not 
due to waning power, in 1826 Cooper published The Last 
, the Mohicans. It was with relief that readers 

the M(^1- turned again back to Indian life in the wilder- 
cans ” 1826 ness, and to the immortal Leatherstocking. 

’ The novel was at once pronounced a master- 

piece, and to-day it is generally regarded as the strongest 
of Cooper’s stories. Certainly it is the most popular. 
“Nowhere in fiction,” writes Smilie, in his Manual of 
American Literature, “do we find a nobler description 


INTRODUCTION 


xviii 

of the Indian than that which is given of Uncas and 
his father Chingachgook/’ The Last of the Mohicans con- 
tains fewer blemishes and more admirable qualities than 
any novel which he wrote during the long active years 
that followed its publication. 

Our author had now reached the summit of his fame 
His books were in every household, and his name was on 
Seven years the lips of all who read and enjoyed literature, 
abroad, and He was the founder and the leading spirit of 
decline in the “Bread and Cheese Club” which num- 
popularity bered among its members the foremost writers 
of the day. More even than the poet Bryant he was, at 
this time, the most prominent man of letters in New York 
and the middle Eastern states. Therefore, when in the fall 
of 1826 he set sail for Europe with his family and servants, 
it was amid the huzzas and eulogies and best wishes of 
hosts of admiring citizens. Little did he realize, little did 
any of his readers realize, that in scarcely ten years the 
same host of admiring countrymen would be giving vent 
to hatred and contempt more bitter than perhaps any to 
which an American writer has ever been subjected. From 
an idol among the people. Cooper became an “unpatriotic, 
fault-finding, Europeanized snob.” This remarkable 
change came about in many ways. It certainly began 
while he was abroad. During the seven years which he 
spent in France acting as American consul at Lyons, and 
also when travelling in Switzerland, Italy, and England, he 
could not help comparing American institutions, American 
art, — in fact, everything American, — with what he saw in 
the Old World. The comparison was naturally in 1830 far 
from favorable to the newer civilization of * the United 
States. But Cooper not only saw the shortcomings of his 
countrymen; he tried to improve them by writing them 
into his stories, not tactfully and gracefully, but in a man- 
ner so bitter and sarcastic that his readers writhed as 
though under a scourging lash. Moreover, in The Bravo, 
one of seven novels, most of them now forgotten, which 
he wrote while abroad, he took occasion to point out 
bluntly and in an offensive manner to Englishmen some 
of their weaknesses and foibles. Thus he brought down 
upon himself a storm of abuse from his foreign readers 


INTRODUCTION 


XIX 


even before he reached America. While in France he 
began a written controversy about the merits of republican 
and monarchical forms of government, and, as has been 
often noted, from then until his death. Cooper was engaged 
in a quarrel most of the time. The novels which came 
from his pen while he was in Europe, with the exception 
of The Prairie, and possibly the Red Rover, added nothing 
to his fame. On the contrary, he returned from abroad 
with his mind full of notions and prejudices which were 
eventually to give him material with which to write him- 
self down as few authors have ever done in the history of 
literature. 

In November, 1833, Cooper arrived in New York with 
his family. He at once moved to Cooperstown, where by 
p the shores of Otsego Lake he continued to live 

cHtuj^and greater part of each year until his death, 

reformer Peaceably, however, he did not live long. 

While the complaints of discontented critics 
were still loud, he fanned the sparks of hostile feeling into a 
flame by publishing Homeward Bound in 1838, and a few 
months later Home as Found, in which he ridiculed America 
and the American people. Cooper’s motive in writing these 
books was unquestionably a high one. He loved his native 
land intensely. He was grieved to see her shortcomings; 
he determined to reform and improve them. Joseph Addi- 
son, a hundred years before, had wished to do the same 
thing for Englishmen of the time of Queen Anne. To 
accomplish his purpose, Addison wrote light, humorous 
essays, so sparkling with wit and graceful satire, that 
people were forced to laugh at their own follies; then, 
once having laughed at themselves, there followed not 
resentment, but rather a sense of shame, and the reform 
had begun. Cooper, unfortunately, never was a humor- 
ist. His criticisms antagonized the people against whom 
they were directed. He took the matter far too seri- 
ously; he preached too insistently; he exaggerated where 
there was no need of exaggeration. The bitter pills which 
he expected his countrymen to swallow, he would not 
give even the semblance of a sugar-coating. Worst of all, 
the one character in Home as Found, whom he evidently 
wished his readers to admire as a perfect American gentle- 


XX 


INTRODUCTION 


man, bore such striking and unmistakable resemblances to 
Cooper himself that until his death, “Edward Effingham,” 
the name of his model hero, was the title jocosely and 
sarcastically bestowed upon him. Many of the criticisms 
in this novel, to be sure, are just. No one questions for a 
moment that America in 1838 did not need an improve- 
ment in manners and customs and social life. But James 
Fenimore Cooper was in no way fitted to bring such a re- 
form to pass. 

Scarcely had Home as Found left the press, when there 
was an outburst of popular resentment. Every rank of 
.... society had been ridiculed, and now from every 
quarter came the storm. In magazine and 
newspaper the author was attacked, frequently 
in a coarse and unnecessarily personal manner. Indeed, 
it is hard for us now to understand the passion which 
brought upon Cooper abuse that no respectable journal to- 
day would print. The following, according to Professor 
Lounsbury, are a few of the insults which filled the pages of 
journals in which Cooper was noticed. In England he had 
already been called a “bilious braggart,” a “liar,” a “full 
jackass,” an “insect,” a “grub,” “a man of consummate 
and inbred vulgarity.” Now in America he became “a 
sneak, a spy, a coward, a demagogue, a parasite, a lick- 
spittle, a fawner upon all from whom he hoped help, a 
slanderer of all who did not care to endure his society.” 

To such indecent and personal abuse as this Cooper did 
not meekly submit. He apparently had in him the Anglo- 
Saxon love of a fight. Here was a fair field with the odds 
very much in his favor. Consequently, one by one the 
editors of papers in which defamation of character had 
appeared were charged with slander, and suits were brought 
into the courts. The novelist very largely prepared his 
arguments and collected his evidence. He, too, conducted 
the prosecutions with remarkable vigor and ability. One 
by one the editors were routed, and jury after jury granted 
him damages varying from fifty to four hundred dollars. 
In fact, in every suit but one Cooper was successful, — a 
success which at first only infuriated his enemies, but which, 
after more than seventy years, adds to the respect in which 
he is now held. For throughout the various trials he 


IXTBODUCnOX 


XXI 


showed a dignity, a power, a patience, and love of justice, 
which at times drew expressions of admiration even from 
his bitterest adversaries. 

By 1841 the critics seemed to have learned their lesson. 
Thereafter they were extremely cautious in all that they 
Later works about Cooper. As a consequence, the 

and last novelist had leisure again to devote to further 

rears literary work. During the next ten years 

many novels came from his pen, many of 
them of little merit, but two of them. The Pathfinder and 
The DeerdayeTf of the Leatherstocking series, show con- 
clusively that though the author was past middle life, and 
though he had pased through a trying ordeal with the 
public, his faculties and imagination were still as strong 
as when he published The Spy. One other work deserves 
special mention. In 1839 he published a History of the 
United States Xavy. The work was unjustly criticised by 
many as partisan. It even led to one of the most famous 
of the libel suits. At one time it seemed as though the 
author was in danger of his life ; yet to-day the book, which 
has been brought dowm to modem times, is generally ac- 
cepted as one of the fairest and most accurate accounts of 
the American navy. Cooper is thus justly entitled to a 
place among the hidorians of the New World. 

T^ last few years of his life were uneventful. He re- 
vised his earlier novels, and wrote for them a few remark- 
able introductions. Meanwhile new stories came almost 
yearly from his pen. The last which he published was 
The Ways of the Hour: a Tale, in ISoO. On September 
14 of the following year he died at Coop>erstown. where 
he is buried near the sp)Ot he most loved, and near the 
scenes of his most famous stories. 

One might infer from the criticisms of the press, during 
Cooper’s later life, and from his generally widespread un- 
^ _ popularity at the time of his death, that he 

^^per as a anything but an agreeable or amiable 

gentleman. As a matter of fact, among his 
friends, who judged the man and not his books, he was 
respected and loved more tlmn many authors of greater 
pKjpularitj’ with the people. Jbven at the time of the libel 
suits, no one questioned his integrity, his fearlessness, and 


XXll 


INTRODUCTION 


his manly love of freedom and justice. Perhaps no man i 
of such high principles and so unblemished a record of I 
moral rectitude was ever more abused. Mr. James Smilie 
in his Manual of American Literature says of him: 

“ Cooper was a man of strong individuality, — ■ brusque, 
arrogant, pugnacious, and over-sensitive; he was also fear- 
less, fair, and truthful. He was chivalrous, noble in bear- 
ing, and devoted to his wife and children. His home life 
was ideal.” 

Had Cooper died in 1826, after publishing The Last of the 
Mohicans, he would have been generally mourned and 
„ . eulogized as the greatest writer of his time. 

dSith mass of readers still felt unkindly 

toward him; the sales of his last novels were 
far smaller than of his first five; indeed, to the average 
educated American it was not the author of The Spy who 
died in 1851, but the Edward Effingham of Home as Found. 

A few prominent men, however, who knew the loss that 
had come to American literature, held a meeting in New 
York in 1852 in honor of the novelist. Daniel Webster 
was the orator of the occasion. William Cullen Bryant 
delivered an oration which remains one of the clearest and 
sanest estimates of Cooper that we have. Gradually the 
unpopularity of the man died away, as libel suits, criti- 
cisms, and local quarrels were forgotten. Slowly, also, the 
majority of the novels slipped into oblivion. At the same 
time the Leatherstocking Tales, The Spy, and The Pilot 
gained little by little in popularity, both at home and 
abroad. Yet it was not until a generation after the Civil 
War that the greatest of our romancers was judged upon 
the merits of what he had written that was good. At the 
beginning of the twentieth century, his readers are prob- 
ably as numerous as at any time since his death. 

In their style and construction it is much easier to point 
out flaws even in Cooper’s best stories than it is to find 
As a writer admirable qualities. First of all, the author 
of The Spy wrote in such haste, and with so 
little revision, that his English is often weak, and at times 
even grammatically inaccurate. Then again, his introduc- 
tions are prolix and tiresome. It takes a struggle to get 
started in many of the tales, and even when under way. 


INTRODUCTION 


xxiii 

there are long digressions of no particular interest and 
in no way connected with the real theme of the story. 
Cooper, moreover, was a man of narrow prejudices, which 
appear in everything he wrote; he lacked, to a painful 
degree, a sense of humor; his conversations are clumsy 
and unnatural; his love of preaching at times is insup- 
portable. Above all, he lacked utterly the power of fine 
delineation of character. In one of Scott’s stronger novels 
there are more distinct, individual personalities than in all 
that Cooper ever published. For the most part, his men 
are wooden. His women are fastidious, prim, uninterest- 
ing, fashion-plate creatures, all alike, and, as Lowell de- 
scribed them, “as fiat as a prairie.” Not a girl or a child 
did he create that to-day we remember and love, as we 
love and remember Little Nell, or Lorna Doone, or Jeanie 
Deans. 

All who read the novels perceive these blemishes and 
many more; yet the fact remains that few of those who 
get well launched into one of the Leatherstocking Tales 
leave the book unfinished. What is it that holds them? 
What is it that still maintains their author’s popularity 
wherever there are English-speaking people? In the first 
place. Cooper has, after all, created a few remarkable and 
distinct characters. His pioneers, Indians, sailors, soldiers, 
and generally his people “of low degree,” are real. They 
ring true. They appear like faithful sketches from life, 
as indeed we know they are. In “Long Tom Coffin,” 
“Harvey Birch,” and “Natty Bumpo” we have three of 
the most interesting and most individual types of char- 
acter in American fiction. Then again, few ever surpassed 
Cooper in the art of description, especially of nature and 
of wild forest scenery. In fact, the backgrounds on which 
he draws the incidents of his stories are the most gorgeous 
and most faithful part of his work. “In the painting of 
scenes on large canvas he is a master artist.” Most im- 
portant of all, his novels have lived because there is in 
them action, movement, stirring life, and progress. A boy 
once said that he liked The Last of the Mohicans because 
“there’s something doing all the time.” That one expres- 
sion is the key to Cooper’s lasting popularity with young 
people and with old. Somehow there comes the desire to 


XXIV 


INTRODUCTION 


read on. We want to know what is in the next chapter 
and how it is all going to turn out. In one word, there is 
interest. And in that one word is the success of every 
novelist whose works are destined to live. 


BIBLIOGRAPHY 

A complete list of Cooper’s works would include more 
than sixty titles. Here, therefore, only the more important 
are given. 

1820. Precaution. 

1821. The Spy. 

1823. The Pioneers. 

1824. The Pilot. 

1826. The Last of the Mohicans, 

1827. The Prairie. 

1828. Red Rover. 

1831. The Bravo. 

1838. Home as Found. 

1839. The History of the Navy of the United States of 

A pn 

1840. ’ The Pathfinder. 

1841. The Deer slayer. 


TO THE TEACHER 

There has been of late an increasing demand among 
English teachers throughout the country for something to 
read with high school pupils which might arouse in them 
a natural and sincere interest, and consequently lead them, 
of their own accord, to further study of literature. No 
demand ever mhde by teachers was more reasonable. The 
result has been a gradual introduction into our schools of 
many books which appeal at once to the heart of every 
normal boy or girl. Thus, while The Epistle to Arhuthnot, 
The Flight of a Tartar Tribe, The History of the Plague] — 
and other plagues, — have been going out of fashion, A 
Tale of Two Cities, Lorna Doone, Henry Esmond, the stories 


INTRODUCTION 


XXV 


of Cooper, Scott, and Stevenson, have been coming in. By 
scholar, teacher, and parent this change in character of 
the literature in secondary schools has been hailed with 
delight. 

There are many eminent educators, however, who be- 
lieve that fiction has no place in the class rooms of the 
higher grades. In a way they are perfectly right. To turn 
Ivanhoe and Silas Marner into material for composition 
subjects, drill in grammar, or practice in sentence construc- 
tion, is to deprive boys and girls of pleasure which it is 
their birthright to enjoy. Many teachers feel it their 
duty somehow to make class-room work out of novels. 
They attempt to use with them the same methods of in- 
tensive study and analysis which they have ‘found neces- 
sary when taking a class through Burke’s Speech on Con- 
ciliation with America, or Milton’s shorter poems. The 
result has been always a pitiful failure. 

A story like The Spy should not be studied at all. It 
should simply be read by the pupils, with the teacher’s 
supervision and assistance, — when they are needed, and 
then only. Drill-work, summarizing, examinations, are out 
of place. As far as possible, the instructor should step 
into the background. What questions he asks ought to 
arouse enthusiasm, greater curiosity, wider interest. In- 
deed, his one care ought to be to help the class to enjoy 
the book thoroughly and intelligently. If such enjoyment 
comes, there will be a demand for The Deerslayer, The Pilot, 
and the rest. Then his teaching has been a success. 

S. T., Jr. 

Newton, Mass., 

November, 1908. 






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AUTHOR’S INTRODUCTION 

The author has often been asked if there were any founda- 
tion in real life, for the delineation of the principal character 
in this book. He can give no clearer answer to the question, 
than by laying before his readers a simple statement of the facts 
connected with its original publication.® 

Many years since, the writer of this volume was at the resi- 
dence of an illustrious man, who had been employed in various 
situations of high trust during the darkest days of the American 
revolution. The discourse turned upon the effects which great 
political excitement produce on character, and the purifying 
consequences of a love of country, when that sentiment is pow- 
erfully and generally awakened in a people. He who, from his 
years, his services, and his knowledge of men, was best qualified 
to take the lead in such a conversation, was the principal speaker. 
After dwelling on the marked manner in which the great 
struggle of the nation, during the war of 1775, had given a new 
and honourable direction to the thoughts and practices of multi- 
tudes whose time had formerly been engrossed by the most 
vulgar concerns of life, he illustrated his opinions by relating 
an anecdote, the truth of which he could attest as a personal 
witness. 

The dispute between England and the United States of 
America, though not strictly a family quarrel, had many of the 
features of a civil war. The people of the latter were never 
properly and constitutionally subject to the people of the former, 
but the inhabitants of both countries owed allegiance to a com- 
mon king. The Americans, as a nation, disavowed this allegi- 
ance, and the English choosing to support their sovereign in the 
attempt to regain his power, most of the feelings of an internal 
struggle were involved in the conflict. A large proportion of 
the emigrants from Europe, then established in the colonies, 
took part with the crown® ; and there were many districts in 
which their infiuence, united to that of the Americans who re- 
fused to lay aside their allegiance, gave a decided preponder- 

xxvii 


5 

10 

15 

20 

25 

30 


AUTHOR^S INTRODUCTION 


xxviii 

ance to the royal cause. America was then too young, and too 
much in need of every heart and hand, to regard these partial 
divisions, small as they were in actual amount, with indiffer- 
ence. The evil was greatly increased by the activity of the 
5 English in profiting by these internal dissensions ; and it became | 
doubly serious when it was found that attempts were made to j 
raise various corps of provincial troops, who were to be banded : 
with those from Europe, to reduce the young republic to sub- 
jection. Congress named an especial and a secret committee, 
10 therefore, for the express purpose of defeating this object. Of 

this committee Mr. ° the narrator of the anecdote, was 

chairman. 

In the discharge of the novel duties which now devolved on i 

him, Mr. had occasion to employ an agent whose services j 

15 differed but little from those of a common spy. This man, as j 
will easily be understood, belonged to a condition in life which 
rendered him the least reluctant to appear in so equivocal a 
character. He was poor, ignorant, so far as the usual instruc- 
tion was concerned ; but cool, shrewd, and fearless by nature. 
20 It was his office to learn in what part of the country the agents ' 
of the crown were making their efforts to embody men, to re- | 
pair to the place, enlist, appear zealous in the cause he affected' 
to serve, and otherwise to get possession of as many of the j 
secrets of the enemy as possible. The last he of course com- 
25 municated to his employers, who took all the means in their 
power to counteract the plans of the English, and frequently \ 
with success. 

It will readily be conceived that a service like this was' 
attended with great personal hazard. In addition to the danger I 
30 of discovery, there was the daily risk of falling into the hands j 
of the Americans themselves, who invariably visited sins of this' 
nature more severely on the natives of the country than on thei 
Europeans who fell into their hands. In fact, the agent of 

Mr. was several times arrested by the local authorities;! 

35 and, in one instance, he was actually condemned by his exas-‘ 
perated countrymen to the gallows. Speedy and private orders! 
to his gaoler alone saved him from an ignominious death. He] 
was permitted to escape ; and this seeming, and indeed actual,] 
peril was of great aid in supporting his assumed character) 
40 among the English. By the Americans, in his little sphere, he| 
was denounced as a bold and inveterate Tory. In this manner' 


AUTHOR’S INTRODUCTION 


XXIX 


he continued to serve his country in secret during the early 
years of the struggle, hourly environed by danger, and the con- 
stant subject of unmerited opprobrium. 

In the year Mr. was named to a high and honour- 

able employment at a European court. Before vacating his seat 5 
in Congress, he reported to that body an outline of the circum- 
stances related, necessarily suppressing the name of his agent, 
and demanding an appropriation in behalf of a man who had 
been of so much use, at so great risk. A suitable sum was 
voted, and its delivery was confided to the chairman of the lo 
secret committee. 

Mr. took the necessary means to summon his agent to 

a personal interview. They met in a wood, at midnight. Here 

Mr. complimented his companion on his fidelity and adroit- • 

ness ; explained the necessity of their communications being 15 
closed ; and finally tendered the money. The other drew back, 
and declined receiving it. “The country has need of all its 
means,” he said ; “as for myself, I can work, or gain a liveli- 
hood in various ways.” Persuasion was useless, for patriotism 
was uppermost in the heart of this remarkable individual ; and 20 

Mr. departed, bearing with him the gold he had brought, 

and a deep respect for the man who had so long hazarded his 
life, unrequited, for the cause they served in common. 

The writer is under an impression that, at a later day, the 

agent of Mr. consented to receive a remuneration for what 25 

he had done ; but it was not until his country was entirely in 
a condition to bestow it. 

It is scarcely necessary to add, that an anecdote like this, 
simply but forcibly told by one of its principal actors, made a 
deep impression on all who heard it. Many years later, cir- 30 
cumstances, which it is unnecessary to relate, and of an entirely 
adventitious nature, induced the writer to publish a novel, 
which proved to be, what he little foresaw at the time, the first 
of a tolerably long series.® The same adventitious causes which 
gave birth to the book, determined its scene and its general 35 
character. The former was laid in a foreign country ; and the 
latter embraced a crude effort to describe foreign manners. 
When this tale was published, it became matter of reproach 
among the author’s friends, that he, an American in heart as in 
birth, should give to the world a work which aided perhaps, in 40 
some slight degree, to feed the imaginations of the young and 


XXX 


AUTHOR^ S INTRODUCTION 


unpractised among his own countrymen, by pictures drawn \ 
from a state of society so different from that to which he be- 
longed. The writer, while he knew how much of what he had 
done was purely accidental, felt the reproach to be one that, 

5 in a measure, was just. As the only atonement in his power, 
he determined to inflict a second book, whose subject should 
admit of no cavil, not only on the world, but on himself. He 
chose patriotism for his theme ; and to those who read this 
introduction and the book itself, it is scarcely necessary to add, 
10 that he took the hero of the anecdote just related as the best 
illustration of his subject. 

Since the original publication of “The Spy,” there have 
appeared several accounts of different persons who are sup- 
posed to have been in the author’s mind while writing the book. 

15 As Mr. did not mention the name of his agent, the writer 

never knew any more of his identity with this or that individual, 
than has been here explained. Both Washington and Sir 
Henry Clinton had an unusual number of secret emissaries ; in 
a war that partook so much of a domestic character, and in 
20 which the contending parties were people of the same blood and 
language, it could scarcely be otherwise. 

The style of the book has been revised by the author in this ' 
edition.® In this respect, he has endeavoured to make it more 
worthy of the favour with which it has been received ; though he 
25 is compelled to admit there are faults so interwoven with the 
structure of the tale that, as in the case of a decayed ediflce, it 
would cost perhaps less to reconstruct than to repair. Five-and- I 
twenty years have been as ages with most things connected with 1 
America. Among other advances, that of her literature has 1 
30 not been the least.® So little was expected from the publica- | 
tion of an original work of this description, at the time it was f 
written, .that the first volume of “The Spy” was actually | 
printed several months, before the author felt a sufficient in- I 
ducement to write a line of the second. The efforts expended | 
35 on a hopeless task are rarely worthy of him who makes them, | 
however low it may be necessary to rate the standard of his ^ 
general merit. | 

One other anecdote connected with the history of this book, I 
may give the reader some idea of the hopes of an American 
40 author, in the first quarter of the present century. As the 
second volume was slowly printing, from manuscript that was 


AUTHOR'S INTRODUCTION 


XXXI 


barely dry° when it went into the compositor’s hands, the pub- 
lisher intimated that the work might grow to a length that 
would consume the profits. To set his mind at rest, the last 
chapter was actually written, printed and paged, several weeks 
before the chapters which precede it were even thought of. 5 
This circumstance, while it cannot excuse, may serve to explain 
the manner in which the actors are hurried off the scene.® 

A great change has come over the country since this book 
was originally written. The nation is passing from the gristle 
into the bone, and the common mind is beginning to keep even lo 
pace with the growth of the body politic. The march from 
Vera Cruz to Mexico w^as made under the orders of that gallant 
soldier® who, a quarter of a century before, was mentioned with 
honour, in the last chapter of this very book. Glorious as was 
that march, and brilliant as were its results in a military point 15 
of view, a stride was then made by the nation, in a moral sense, 
that has hastened it by an age, in its progress toward real inde- 
pendence and high political influence. The guns that filled the 
valley of the Aztecs® with their thunder, have been heard in 
echoes on the other side of the Atlantic, producing equally 20 
hope or apprehension. 

There is now no enemy to fear, but the one that resides 
within.® By accustoming ourselves to regard even the people 
as erring beings, and by using the restraints that wisdom has 
adduced from experience, there is much reason to hope that the 25 
same Providence which has so well aided us in our infancy, may 
continue to smile on our manhood. 

J. Fenimore Cooper. 

COOPERSTOWN, 

March 29 , 1849 . 


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THE SPY 


CHAPTER I 

And though amidst the calm of thought entire, 

Some high and haughty features might betray 
A soul impetuous once — 'twas earthly fire 
That fled composure’s intellceti^al ray, 

As Etna’s fires grow dim before the rising day. 

Gertrude of Wyoming. 

It was near the close of the year 1780, that a solitary 
traveller was seen pursuing his way through one of the 
numerous little valleys of West-Chester. ° The easterly wind, 
with its chilling dampness and increasing violence, gave un- 
erring notice of the approach of a storm, which as usual 
might be expected to continue for several days: and the 
experienced eye of the traveller was turned in vain, through 
the darkness of the evening, in quest of some convenient 
shelter, in which, for the term of his confinement by the 
rain that already began to mix with the atmosphere in a 
thick mist, he might obtain such accommodations as his 
purposes required. Nothing however offered but the small 
and inconvenient tenements of the lower order of the in- 
habitants, with whom, in that immediate neighbourhood, 
he did not think it either safe or politic to trust himself. 

The county of West-Chester, after the British had obtained 
possession of the island of New York,® became common 
ground, in which both parties continued to act for the re- 
mainder of the war of the revolution. A large proportion 
of its inhabitants, either restrained by their attachments, or 
influenced by their fears, affected a neutrality they did not 
feel. The lower towns were, of course, more particularly 
under the dominion of the crown, while the upper, finding a 
security from the vicinity of the continental troops, were 
bold in asserting their revolutionary opinions, and their 
B 1 


5 

10 

15 

20 

25 


2 


THE SPY 


right to govern themselves. Great numbers, however, worelj 
masks, which even to this day have not been thrown aside ;1 
and many an individual has gone down to the tomb, stig- 
matised as a foe to the rights of his countrymen, while, in 
5, secret, he has been the useful agent of the leaders of the revo- 
lution ; and, on the other hand, could the hidden repositories 
of divers flaming patriots have been opened to the light of^ 
day, royal protections would have been discovered con-i 
cealed under piles of British gold, 
lo At the sound of the tread of the noble horse ridden by thei 
traveller, the mistress of the farm-house he was passing ati 
the time might be seen cautiously opening the door of the: 
building to examine the stranger; and perhaps, with an| 
averted face, communicating the result of her observations; 
15 to her husband, who, in the rear of the building, was pre-|: 
pared to seek, if necessary, his ordinary place of conceal-? 
ment in the adjacent woods. The valley was situated about 1 
, mid- way in the length of the county, and was sufficiently! 
near to both armies to make the restitution of stolen goods I 
20 no uncommon occurrence in that vicinity. It is true, the I 
same articles were not always regained; but a summary! 
substitute was generally resorted to, in the absence of legal 1 
justice, which restored to the loser the amount of his loss, j 
and frequently with no inconsiderable addition for the 
25 temporary use of his property. In short, the law was 
momentarily extinct in that particular district, and justice 
was administered subject to the bias of personal interests, | 
and the passions of the strongest. 

The passage of a stranger, with an appearance of some- j 
30 what doubtful character, and mounted on an animal which, 
although unfurnished with any of the ordinary trappings of 
war, partook largely of the bold and upright carriage that 
distinguished his rider, gave rise to many surmises among 
the gazing inmates of the different habitations ; and in some 
35 instances, where conscience was more than ordinarily awake, 
to no little alarm. 

Tired with the exercise of a day of unusual fatigue, and 
anxious to obtain a speedy shelter from the increasing vio- 
lence of the storm, that now began to change its character 
40 to large drops of driving rain, the traveller determined, as a 
matter of necessity, to make an application for admission 


THE SPY 


3 


to the next dwelling that offered. An opportunity was not 
long wanting ; and, riding through a pair of neglected bars, 
he knocked loudly at the outer door of a building, of a very 
humble exterior, without quitting his saddle. A female of 
middle age, with an outward bearing but little more pre- 5 
possessing than that of her dwelling, appeared to answer 
the summons. The startled woman half closed her door 
again in affright, as she saw, by the glare of a large wood 
fire, a mounted man so unexpectedly near its threshold; 
and an expression of terror mingled with her natural curi- 10 
osity, as she required his pleasure. 

Although the door was too nearly closed to admit of a 
minute scrutiny of the accommodations within, enough had 
been seen to cause the horseman to endeavour, once more, 
to penetrate the gloom, with longing eyes, in search of a 15 
more promising roof, before, with an ill-concealed reluc- 
tance, he stated his necessities and wishes. His request 
was listened to with evident unwillingness, and, while yet 
unfinished, it was eagerly interrupted by the reply — 

“I can’t say I like to give lodgings to a stranger in these 20 
ticklish times,” said the female in a pert sharp key; ‘H’m 
nothing but a forlorn lone body; or, what’s the same 
thing, there’s nobody but the old gentleman at home; but 
a half mile further up the road is a house where you can 
get entertainment, and that for nothing. I am sure ’twill 25 
be much convenienter to them, and more agreeable to me; 
because, as I said before, Harvey is away — I wish he’d 
take advice, and leave off wandering; he’s well to do in the 
world, by this time; and he ought to leave off his uncertain 
courses, and settle himself, handsomely, in life, like other 3° 
men of his years and property. But Harvey Birch will 
have his own way, and die vagabond after all !” 

The horseman did not wait to hear more than the advice 
to pursue his course up the road; but he had slowly turned 
his horse towards the bars, and was gathering the folds of 35 
an ample cloak around his manly form, preparatory to fac- 
ing the storm again, when something in the speech of the 
female suddenly arrested the movement. 

'Hs this, then, the dwelling of Harvey Birch?” he in- 
quired, in an involuntary manner, apparently checking him- 40 
self, as he was about to utter more.® 


4 


THE SPY 


‘‘ Why, one can hardly say it is his dwelling,” replied the 
other, drawing a hurried breath, like one eager to answer; 
“ he is never in it, or so seldom, that I hardly remember his 
face, when he does think it worth his while to show it to his 
spoor old father and me. But it matters little to me. I’m 
sure, if he ever comes back again, or not; — turn in the first 
gate on your left; — no, I care but little, for my part, whether 
Harvey ever shows his face again or not — not I ; ” — and 
she closed the door abruptly on the horseman, w^ho gladly 
lo extended his ride a half mile further, to obtain lodgings which 
promised both more comfort and greater security. 

Sufficient light yet remained to enable the traveller to 
distinguish the improvements® which had been made in the 
cultivation, and in the general appearance of the grounds 
15 around the building to which he was now approaching. 
The house was of stone, long, low, and with a small wing 
at each extremity. A piazza, extending along the front, 
with neatly turned pillars of wood, together with the good 
order and preservation of the fences and out-buildings, 
20 gave the place an air altogether superior to the common 
farm-houses of the country. After leading his horse be- 
hind an angle of the wall, where it was in some degree pro- 
tected from the wind and rain, the traveller threw his 
vallise® over his arm, and knocked loudly at the entrance 
25 of the building for admission. An aged black soon ap- 
peared; and without seeming to think it necessary, under 
the circumstances, to consult his superiors — first taking 
one prying look at the applicant, by the light of the candle 
in his hand — he acceded to the request for accommoda- 
30 tions. The traveller was shown into an extremely neat 
parlour, where a fire had been lighted to cheer the dulness 
of an easterly storm, and an October evening. After giv- 
ing the vallise into the keeping of his civil attendant, and 
politely repeating his request to the old gentleman, who 
35 arose to receive him, and paying his compliments to the 
three ladies who were seated at work with their needles, 
the stranger commenced laying aside some of the outer 
garments which he had worn in his ride. 

On taking an extra handkerchief from his neck, and 
40 removing a cloak of blue cloth, with a surtout® of the same 
material, he exhibited to the scrutiny of the observant 


THE SPY 


5 


family party, a tall and extremely graceful person, of ap- 
parently fifty years of age. — His countenance evinced a 
settled composure and dignity; his nose was straight, and 
approaching to Grecian; his eye, of a grey colour, was 
quiet, thoughtful, and rather melancholy; the mouth and s 
lower part of his face being expressive of decision and 
rnuch character. His dress, being suited to the road, was 
simple and plain, but such as was worn by the higher class 
of his countrymen; he wore his own hair,° dressed in a 
manner that gave a military air to his appearance, and lo 
which was rather heightened by his erect and conspicuously 
graceful carriage. His whole appearance was so impressive 
and so decidedly that of a gentleman, that as he finished 
laying aside the garments, the ladies arose from their seats, 
and, together with the master of the house, they received 15 
anew, and returned the complimentary greetings which 
were again offered. 

The host was by several years the senior of the traveller, 
and by his manner, dress, and every thing around him, 
showed he had seen much of life and the best society. 20 
The ladies were, a maiden of forty, and two much younger, 
who did not seem, indeed, to have reached half those years. 
The bloom of the elder of these ladies had vanished, but 
her eyes and fine hair gave an extremely agreeable expres- 
sion to her countenance; and there v.-as a softness and an 25 
affability in her deportment, that added a charm many 
more juvenile faces do not possess. The sisters, for such 
the resemblance between the younger females denoted 
them to be, were in all the pride of youth, and the roses, 
so eminently the property of the West-Chester fair, glowed 30 
on their cheeks, and lighted their deep blue eyes with that 
lustre which gives so much pleasure to the beholder, and 
which indicates so much internal innocence and peace. 
There was much of that feminine delicacy in the appear- 
ance of the three, which distinguishes the sex in this coun- 35 
try; and, like the gentleman, their demeanour proved 
them to be women of the higher order of life. 

After handing a glass of excellent Madeira to his guest, 
Mr. Wharton, for so was the owner of this retired estate 
called, resumed his seat by the fire, with another in his 40 
own hand. For a moment he paused, as if debating with 


6 


THE SPY 


his politeness, but at length threw an enquiring glance on 
the stranger, as he enquired — 

“To whose health am I to have the honour of drinking?” 
The traveller had also seated himself, and he sat uncon- 
5Sciously gazing on the fire, while Mr. Wharton spoke; 
turning his eyes slowly on his host with a look of close 
observation, he replied, while a faint tinge gathered on his 
features — 

“Mr. Harper.” 

10 “Mr. Harper,” resumed the other, with the formal pre- 
cision of that day, “I have the honour to drink your health, 
and to hope you will sustain no injury from the rain to 
which you have been exposed.” 

Mr. Harper bowed in silence to the compliment, and he 
15 soon resumed the meditations from which he had been 
interrupted, and for which the long ride he had that day 
made, in the wind, might seem a very natural apology. 

The young ladies had again taken their seats beside the 
workstand, while their aunt. Miss Jeanette Peyton, with- 
20 drew, to superintend the preparations necessary to appease 
the hunger of their unexpected visitor. A short silence 
prevailed, during which Mr. Harper was apparently enjoy- 
ing the change in his situation, when Mr. Wharton again 
broke it, by enquiring whether smoke was disagreeable to 
25 his companion; to which, receiving an answer in the nega- 
tive, he immediately resumed the pipe which had been laid 
aside at the entrance of the traveller. 

There was an evident desire on the part of the host to 
enter into conversation, but either from an apprehension 
30 of treading on dangerous ground, or an unwillingness to 
intrude upon the rather studied taciturnity of his guest, 
he several times hesitated, before he could venture to 
make any further remark. At length, a movement from 
Mr. Harper, as he raised his eyes to the party in the room, 
35 encouraged him to proceed. 

“I find it very difficult,” said Mr. Wharton, cautiously 
avoiding, at first, such subjects as he wished to introduce, 
“ to procure that quality of tobacco for my evenings’ amuse- 
ment, to which I have been accustomed.” 

40 “I should think the shops in New York might furnish 
the best in the country,” calmly rejoined the other. 


THE SPY 


7 


“Why — yes/’ returned the host, in rather a hesitating 
manner, lifting his eyes to the face of Harper, and lowering 
them quickly under his steady look, “there must be plenty 
in town; but the war has made communication with the 
city, however innocent, too dangerous to be risked for so 5 
trifling an article as tobacco.” 

The box from which Mr. Wharton had Just taken a 
supply for his pipe was lying open, within a few inches of 
the elbow of Harper, who took a small quantity from its 
contents, and applied it to his tongue, in a manner per- 10 
fectly natural, but one that filled his companion with 
alarm. Without, however, observing that the quality was 
of the most approved kind, the traveller relieved his host 
by relapsing again into his meditations. Mr. Wharton 
now felt unwilling to lose the advantage he had gained, 15 
and, making an effort of more than usual vigour, he con- 
tinued — 

“I wish, from the bottom of my heart, this unnatural 
struggle was over, that we might again meet our friends 
and relatives in peace and love.” 20 

“It is much to be desired,” said Harper, emphatically, 
again raising his eyes to the countenance of his host. 

“I hear of no movement of consequence, since the arrival 
of our new allies,” said Mr. Wharton, shaking the ashes 
from his pipe, and turning his back to the other, under 25 
the pretence of receiving a coal from his youngest daughter. 

“None have yet reached the public, I believe.” 

“Is it thought any important steps are about to be 
taken?” continued Mr. Wharton, still occupied with his 
daughter, yet unconsciously suspending his employment, 30 
in expectation of a reply. 

“Is it intimated any are in agitation?” 

“Oh! nothing in particular; but it is natural to expect 
some new enterprise from so powerful a force as that under 
Rochambeau.”° _ _ 35 

Harper made an assenting inclination with his head, but 
no other reply, to this remark; while Mr. Wharton, after 
lighting his pipe, resumed the subject. 

“They appear more active in the south; Gates and Corn- 
wallis® seem willing to bring the war to an issue, there.” 40 

The brow of Harper contracted, and a deeper shade of 


8 


THE SPY 


melancholy crossed his features; his eye kindled with a 
transient beam of fire, that spoke a latent source of deep 
feeling. The admiring gaze of the younger of the sisters 
had barely time to read its expression, before it passed 
5 away, leaving in its room the acquired composure which 
marked the countenance of the stranger, and that impres- 
sive dignity which so conspicuously denotes the empire of 
reason. 

The elder sister made one or two movements in her chair, 
lo before she ventured to say, in a tone which partook in no 
small measure of triumph — 

^‘General Gates has been less fortunate with the Earl, 
than with General Burgoyne.’’ 

“But General Gates is an Englishman, Sarah,” cried the 
15 younger lady, with quickness; then, colouring to the eyes 
at her own boldness, she employed herself in tumbling 
over the contents of her work-basket, silently hoping the 
remark would be unnoticed. 

The traveller had turned his face from one sister to the 
20 other, as they had spoken in succession, and an almost 
imperceptible movement of the muscles of his mouth be- 
trayed a new emotion, as he playfully enquired of the 
younger — 

“May I venture to ask, what inference you would draw 
25 from that fact?” 

Frances blushed yet deeper at this direct appeal to her 
opinions upon a subject on which she had incautiously 
spoken in the presence of a stranger; but, finding an 
answer necessary, after some little hesitation, and with a 
30 good deal of stammering in her manner, she replied — 

“Only — only — sir — my sister and myself sometimes 
differ in our opinions of the prowess of the British.” A 
smile of much meaning played on a face of infantile inno- 
cency, as she concluded. 

35 “On what particular points of their prowess do you 
differ?” continued Harper, meeting her look of animation 
with a smile of almost paternal softness. 

“Sarah thinks the British are never beaten, while I do 
not put so much faith in their invincibility.” 

40 The traveller listened to her with that pleased indulgence, 
with which virtuous age loves to contemplate the ardour of 


THE SPY 


9 


youthful innocence; but making no reply, he turned to the 
fire, and continued for some time gazing on its embers, in 
silence. 

Mr. Wharton had in vain endeavoured to pierce the dis- 
guise of his guest’s political feelings; but, while there was 5 
nothing forbidding in his countenance, there was nothing 
communicative; on the contrary, it was strikingly reserved; 
and the master of the house arose, in profound ignorance 
of what, in those days, was the most material point in 
the character of his guest, to lead the way into another 10 
room, and to the supper table. Mr. Harper offered his 
hand to Sarah Wharton, and they entered the room to- 
gether; while Frances followed, greatly at a loss to know, 
whether she had not wounded the feelings of her father’s 
inmate. 15 

The storm began to rage with great violence without; 
and the dashing rain on the sides of the building awakened 
that silent sense of enjoyment, which is excited by such 
sounds in a room of quiet comfort and warmth, when a 
loud summons at the outer door again called the faithful 20 
black to the portal. In a minute the servant returned, 
and informed his master that another traveller, overtaken 
by the storm, desired to be admitted to the house for a 
shelter through the night. 

At the first sounds of the impatient summons of this new 25 
applicant, Mr. Wharton had risen from his seat in evident 
uneasiness; and, with eyes glancing with quickness from 
his guest to the door of the room, he seemed to be expect- 
ing something to proceed from this second interruption, 
connected with the stranger who had occasioned the first. 30 
He scarcely had time to bid the black, with a faint voice, 
to show this second comer in, before the door was thrown 
hastily open, and the stranger himself entered the apart- 
ment. He paused a moment, as the person of Harper met 
his view, and then, in a more formal manner, repeated the 35 
request he had before made through the servant. Mr. 
Wharton and his family disliked the appearance of this 
new visitor exce.ssively; but the inclemency of the weather, 
and the uncertainty of the consequences, if he were refused 
the desired lodgings, compelled the old gentleman to give 4° 
a reluctant acquiescence. 


10 


THE SPY 


Some of the dishes were replaced by the orders of Miss 
Peyton, and the weather-beaten intruder was invited to 
partake of the remains of the repast, from which the party 
had just risen. Throwing aside a rough great-coat, he very 
5 composedly took the offered chair, and unceremoniously 
proceeded to allay the cravings of an appetite, which ap- 
peared by no means delicate. But at every mouthful he 
would turn an unquiet eye on Harper, who studied his ap- 
pearance with a closeness of investigation, that was very 
lo embarrassing to its subject. At length, pouring out a 
glass of wine, the new comer nodded significantly to his 
examiner, previously to swallowing the liquor, and said, 
with something of bitterness in his manner — i 

“I drink to our better acquaintance, sir; I believe this | 
15 is the first time we have met, though your attention would j 
seem to say otherwise.’’ j 

The quality of the wine seemed greatly to his fancy, for, on 
replacing the glass upon the table, he gave his lips a smack, 
that resounded through the room; and, taking up the bottle, 

20 he held it between himself and the light, for a moment, in 
silent contemplation of its clear and brilliant colour. 

“I think we have never met before, sir,” replied Harper, 
with a slight smile on his features, as he observed the move- 
ments of the other; but appearing satisfied with his scrutiny, 

25 he turned to Sarah Wharton, who sat next him, and care- 
lessly remarked — 

“You, doubtless, find your present abode solitary, after 
being accustomed to the gayeties of the city.” ' 

“Oh! excessively so,” said Sarah, hastily. “I do wish, 

30 with my father, that this cruel war was at an end, that we 
might return to our friends once more.” 

“And you. Miss Frances, do you long as ardently for 
peace as your sister?” 

“On many accounts I certainly do,” returned the other, 

35 venturing to steal a timid glance at her interrogator; and, 
meeting the same benevolent expression of feeling as before, 
she continued, as her own face lighted into one of its ani- 
mated and bright smiles of intelligence, “but not at the 
expense of the rights of my countrymen.” ! 

40 “Rights!” repeated her sister, impatiently; “whose 
rights can be stronger than those of a sovereign; and what 


THE SPY 


11 


duty is clearer, than to obey those who have a natural 
right to command?” 

“None, certainly,” said Frances, laughing with great 
pleasantry; and, taking the hand of her sister affectionately 
within both of her own, she added, with a smile directed 5 
towards Harper — 

“I gave you to understand, that my sister and myself 
differed in our political opinions; but we have an impartial 
umpire in my father, who loves his own countrymen, and 
he loves the British, — so he takes sides with neither.” 10 

“Yes,” said Mr. Wharton, in a little alarm, eyeing first 
one guest, and then the other; “ I have near friends in both 
armies, and I dread a victory by either, as a source of cer- 
tain private misfortune.” 

“I take it, you have little reason to apprehend much 15 
from the Yankees, in that w^ay;” interrupted the’ guest at 
the table, coolly helping himself to another glass, from the 
bottle he had admired. 

“ His Majesty may have more experienced troops than the 
continentals,” answered the host fearfully, “but the Ameri-20 
cans have met with distinguished success.” 

Harper disregarded the observations of both; and, rising, 
he desired to be shown to his place of rest. A small boy 
was directed to guide him to his room ; and wishing a cour- 
teous good-night to the whole party, the traveller with- 25 
drew. The knife and fork fell from the hands of the un- 
welcome intruder, as the door closed on the retiring figure 
of Harper; — he arose slowly from his seat; — listening 
attentively, he approached the door of the room — opened 
it — seemed to attend to the retreating footsteps of the 30 
other — and, amidst the panic and astonishment of his 
companions, he closed it again. In an instant, the red 
wig which concealed his black locks, the large patch, which 
hid half his face from observation, the stoop, that had 
made him appear fifty years of age, disappeared. 35 

“My father! — my dear father!” — cried the handsome 
young man; “and you, my dearest sisters and aunt! — 
have 1 at last met you, again?” 

“Heaven bless you, my Henry, my son!” exclaimed the 
astonished, but delighted parent; while his sisters sunk on 40 
his shoulders, dissolved in tears. 


12 


THE SPY 


The faithful old black, who had been reared from infancy 
in the house of his master, and who, as if in mockery of his 
degraded state, had been complimented with the name of 
CiBsar, was the only other witness of this unexpected dis- 
5 covery of the son of Mr. Wharton. After receiving the 
extended hand of his young master, and imprinting on it a 
fervent kiss, Csesar withdrew. The boy did not re-enter 
the room; and the black himself, after some time, returned, 
just as the young British captain was exclaiming — 
lo ‘‘But who is this Mr. Harper? — is he likely to betray 
me?’’ 

“ No — no — no — Massa Harry,” cried the negro, shak- 
ing his grey head confidently; “I been to see — Massa 
Harper on he knee — pray to God — no gemman who pray 
15 to God, tell of good son, come to see old fader — Skinner 
do that — no Christian ! ” 

This poor opinion of the Skinners was not confined to Mr. 
Csesar Thompson, as he called himself — but Caesar Whar- 
ton, as he was styled by the little world to which he was 
20 known. The convenience, and perhaps the necessities, of 
the leaders of the American arms, in the neighbourhood of 
New York, had induced them to employ certain subordinate 
agents, of extremely irregular habits, in executing their 
lesser plans of annoying the enemy. It was not a moment 
25 for fastidious enquiries into abuses of any description, and 
oppression and injustice were the natural consequences of 
the possession of a military power that was uncurbed by 
the restraints of civil authority. In time, a distinct order 
of the community was formed, whose sole occupation ap- 
30 pears to have been that of relieving their fellow-citizens 
from any little excess of temporal prosperity they might 
be thought to enjoy, under the pretence of patriotism, and 
the love of liberty. 

Occasionally, the aid of military authority was not want- 
35 ing, in enforcing these arbitrary distributions of worldly 
goods; and a petty holder of a commission in the state 
militia was to be seen giving the sanction of something 
like legality to acts of the most unlicensed robbery, and, 
not unfrequently, of bloodshed. 

40 On the part of the British, the stimulus of loyalty was by 
no means suffered to sleep, where so fruitful a field offered, 


THE SPY 


13 


on which it might be expended. But their freebooters 
were enrolled, and their efforts more systematised. Long 
experience had taught their leaders the efficacy of con- 
centrated force; and, unless tradition does great injustice 
to their exploits, the result did no little credit to their fore- s 
sight. The corps — we presume, from their known affec- 
tion to that useful animal — had received the quaint ap- 
pellation of ‘Cow-Boys.’ 

Caesar was, however, far too loyal to associate men, who 
held the commission of George III., with the irregular lo 
warriors, whose excesses he had so often witnessed, and 
from whose rapacity, neither his poverty nor his bondage 
had suffered even him to escape uninjured. The Cow- 
Boys, therefore, did not receive their proper portion of the 
black’s censure, when he said, no Christian, nothing but a 15 
“Skinner,” could betray a pious child, while honouring his 
father with a visit so full of peril. 


CHAPTER II 


And many a halcyon day he liv’d to see 
Unbroken, but by one misfortune dire, 

When fate had reft his mutual heart — but she 

Was gone — and Gertrude climb’d a widow’d father’s knee. 

Gertrude of Wyoming. 

The father of Mr. Wharton was a native of England, and 
of a family whose parliamentary interest had enabled them 
to provide for a younger son in the colony of New York. 
The young man, like hundreds of others in his situation, 

5 had settled permanently in the country. He married; and 
the sole issue of his connexion had been sent early in life to 
receive the benefits of the English schools. After taking 
his degrees at one of the universities of the mother coun- 
try, the youth had been suffered to acquire a knowledge 
10 of life with the advantages of European society. But the 
death of his father recalled him, after passing two years 
in this manner, to the possession of an honourable name, 
and a very ample estate. 

It was much the fashion of that day to place the youth of 
IS certain families in the army or navy of England, as the regu- 
lar stepping-stones to preferment. Most of the higher offices 
in the colonies were filled by men who had made arms 
their profession; and it was even no uncommon sight to 
see a veteran warrior laying aside the sword to assume the 
20 ermine on the benches of the highest judicial authority. 

In conformity with this system, the senior Mr. Wharton 
had intended his son for a soldier; but a natural imbecility 
of character in his child interfered with his wishes. 

A twelvemonth had been spent by the young man in 
25 weighing the comparative advantages of the different classes 
of troops, when the death of his father occurred. The ease 
of his situation, and the attentions lavished upon a youth 
in the actual enjoyment of one of the largest estates in the 
colonies, interfered greatly with his ambitious projects. 

14 


THE SPY 


35 


Love decided the matter; and Mr. Wharton, in becoming 
a husband, ceased to think of becoming a soldier. For 
rnany years he continued happy in his family, and suffi- 
ciently respected by his countrymen, as a man of integrity 
and consequence, when ail his enjoyments vanished, as it 5 
were, at a blow. His only son, the youth introduced in the 
preceding chapter, had entered the army, and had arrived 
in his native country, but a short time before the commence- 
ment of hostilities, with the reinforcements the ministry had 
thought it prudent to throw into the disaffected parts of 10 
North America. His daughters were just growing into life, 
and their education required all the advantages the city 
could afford. His wife had been for some years in declin- 
ing health, and had barely time to fold her son to her 
bosom, and rejoice in the re-union of her family, before the 15 
revolution burst forth, in a continued blaze, from Georgia 
to Massachusetts. The shock was too much for the feeble 
condition of the mother, who saw her child called to the 
field to combat against the members of her own family in 
the South, and she sunk under the blow.^ 20 

There was no part of the continent wh^ the manners of 
England, and its aristocratical notions of blood and alli- 
ances, prevailed with more force, than in a certain .circle 
immediately around the metropolis of New York. The cus- 
toms of the early Dutch inhabitants had, indeed, blended 25 
in some measure with the English manners; but still the 
latter prevailed. This attachment to Great Britain was 
increased by the frequent intermarriages of the officers of 
the mother country with the wealthier and more powerful 
families of the vicinity, until, at the commencement of 30 
hostilities, their united influence had very nearly thrown 
the colony into the scale on the side of the crown. A few, 
however, of the leading families espoused the cause of the 
people; and a sufficient stand was made against the efforts 
of the ministerial party, to organise, and, aided by the army 35 
of the confederation, to maintain, an independent and re- 
publican form of government. 

The city of New York and the adjacent territory were 
alone exempted from the rule of the new commonwealth; 
while the royal authority extended no further than its 40 
dignity could be supported by the presence of an army. 


16 


THE SPY 


In this condition of things, the loyalists of influence adopted 
such measures as best accorded with their different char- 
acters and situations. Many bore arms in support of the 
crown, and, by their bravery and exertions, endeavoured to 
5 secure what they deemed to be the rights of their prince, 
and their own estates, from the effects of the law of at- 
tainder. Others left the country; seeking in that place 
they emphatically called home, an asylum, as they fondly 
hoped, for a season only, against the confusion and dangers 
lo of war. A third, and a more wary portion, remained in the 
place of their nativity, with a prudent regard to their ample 
possessions, and, perhaps, influenced by their attachments 
to the scenes of their youth. Mr. Wharton was of this 
description. After making a provision against future con- 
15 tingencies, by secretly transmitting the whole of his money 
to the British funds, this gentleman determined to continue 
in the theatre of strife, and to maintain so strict a neu- 
trality, as to ensure the safety of his large estate, which- 
ever party succeeded. He was apparently engrossed in the 
20 education of his daughters, when a relation, high in office 
in the new state, intimated, that a residence in what was 
now a British camp differed but little, in the eyes of his 
countrymen, from a residence in the British capital. Mr. 
Wharton soon saw this was an unpardonable offence in the 
25 existing state of things, and he instantly determined to 
remove the difficulty, by retiring to the country. He pos- 
sessed a residence in the county of West-Chester ; and 
having been for many years in the habit of withdrawing 
thither during the heats of the summer months, it was kept 
30 furnished, and ready for his accommodation. His eldest 
daughter was already admitted into the society of women; 
but Frances, the younger, required a year or two more of 
the usual cultivation, to appear with proper 6 clat° : at least 
so thought Miss Jeanette Peyton; and as this lady, a younger 
35 sister of their deceased mother, had left her paternal home, 
in the colony of Virginia, with the devotedness and affec- 
tion peculiar to her sex, to superintend the welfare of her 
orphan nieces, Mr. Wharton felt that her opinions were en- 
titled to respect. In conformity to her advice, therefore, 
40 the feelings of the parent were made to yield to the welfare 
of his children.. 


X 


THE SPY 


17 


Mr. Wharton withdrew to the ‘‘Locusts,” with a heart 
rent with the pain of separating from all that was left him 
of a wife he had adored, but in obedience to a constitutional 
prudence that pleaded loudly in behalf of his worldly goods. 
His handsome town residence was inhabited, in the mean 5 
while, by his daughters and their aunt. The regiment to 
which Captain Wharton belonged formed part of the per- 
manent garrison of the city; and the knowledge of the 
presence of his son was no little relief to the father, in his 
unceasing meditations on his absent daughters. But Cap- 10 
tain Wharton was a young man and a soldier; his estimate 
of character was not always the wisest; and his propensities 
led him to imagine that a red coat never concealed a dis- 
honourable heart. 

The house of Mr. Wharton became a fashionable lounge 15 
to the officers of the royal army, as did that of every other 
family that was thought worthy of their notice. The con- 
sequences of this association were, to some few of the visited, 
fortunate; to more, injurious, by exciting expectations 
which were never to be realised, and, unhappily, to no 20 
small number ruinous. The known wealth of the father, 
and, possibly, the presence of a high-spirited brother, for- 
bade any apprehension of the latter danger to the young 
ladies ; but it was impossible that all the admiration be- 
stowed on the fine figure and lovely face of Sarah Wharton 25 
should be thrown away. Her person was formed with the 
early maturity of the climate, and a strict cultivation of the 
graces had made her, decidedly, the belle of the city. No 
one promised to dispute with her this female sovereignty, 
unless it might be her younger sister. Frances, however, 30 
wanted some months to the charmed age of sixteen; and 
the idea of competition was far from the minds of either of 
the affectionate girls. Indeed, next to the conversation of 
Colonel Wellmere, the greatest pleasure of Sarah was in 
contemplating the budding beauties of the little Hebe,° 35 
who played around her with all the innocency of youth, 
with all the enthusiasm of her ardent temper, and with no 
little of the archness of her native humour. Whether or 
not it was owing to the fact that Frances received none of 
the compliments which fell to the lot of her elder sister, in 40 
the often repeated discussions on the merits of the war, 
c 


18 


THE SPY 


between the military beaus who frequented the house, it is 
certain their effects on the sisters were exactly opposite. 
It was much the fashion then for the British officers to speak 
slightingly of their enemies; and Sarah took all the idle 
5 vapouring of her danglers to be truths. The first political 
opinions which reached the ears of Frances were coupled 
with sneers on the conduct of her countrymen. At first 
she believed them; but there was occasionally a general, 
who was obliged to do justice to his enemy in order to 
10 obtain justice for himself; and Frances became somewhat 
skeptical on the subject of the inefficiency of her country- 
men. Colonel Wellmere was among those w^ho delighted 
most in expending his wit on the unfortunate Americans; 
and, in time, Frances began to listen to his eloquence with 
15 great suspicion, and sometimes with resentment. 

It was on a hot sultry day, that the three were in the par- 
lour of Mr. Wharton’s house, the Colonel and Sarah seated 
on a sofa, engaged in a combat of the eyes, aided by the 
usual flow of small talk, and Frances was occupied at her 
20 tambouring frame, in an opposite corner of the room, when 
the gentleman suddenly exclaimed — 

“ How gay the arrival of the army under General Burgoyne 
will make the city. Miss Wharton!” 

“Oh! how pleasant it must be,” said the thoughtless 
25 Sarah, in reply; “I am told there are many charming 
women with that army; as you say, it will make us all 
life and gayety.” 

Frances shook back the abundance of her golden hair, 
and raised her eyes, dancing with the ardour of national 
30 feeling; then laughing, with a concealed humour, she 
asked — 

“Is it so certain, that General Burgoyne will be per- 
mitted to reach the city?” 

“Permitted!” echoed the Colopel : “who is there to pre- 
35 vent it, my pretty Miss Fanny?” 

Frances was precisely at that age, when young people are 
most jealous of their station in society; neither quite a 
woman, nor yet a child. The “pretty Miss Fanny” was 
too familiar to be relished, and she dropped her eyes on 
40 her work again, with cheeks that glowed like crimson. 

“General Stark took the Germans into custody,”® she 


THE SPY 


19 


answered, compressing her lip; — “may not General Gates 
think the British too dangerous to go at large?” 

“Oh ! they were Germans, as you say,” cried the Colonel, 
excessively vexed at the necessity of explaining at all; 
“mere mercenary troops; but when the really British regi- 5 
ments come in question, you will see a very different result.” 

“Of that there is no doubt,” cried Sarah, without in the 
least partaking of the resentment of the Colonel to her 
sister, but hailing already in her heart, the triumph of the 
British. 10 

“Pray, Colonel Wellmere,” said Frances, recovering her 
good humour, and raising her joyous eyes once more to the 
face of the gentleman, “was the Lord Percy of Lexington, 
a kinsman of him who fought at Chevy Chase?” 

“Why, Miss Fanny, you are becoming a rebel,” said the 15 
Colonel, endeavouring to laugh away the anger he felt; 
“what you are pleased to insinuate was a chase at Lexing- 
ton, was nothing more than a judicious retreat — a — kind 
of—” 

“ Running fight,” interrupted the good-humoured girl, 20 
laying great emphasis on the first word. 

“Positively, young lady — ” Colonel Wellmere was inter- 
rupted by a laugh from a person who had hitherto been 
unnoticed. 

There was a small family apartment, adjoining the room 25 
occupied by the trio, and the air had blown open the door 
communicating between the two. A fine young man was 
now seen sitting near the entrance, who, by his smiling 
countenance, was evidently a pleased listener to the con- 
versation. He rose instantly, and coming through the 30 
door, with his hat in his hand, appeared a tall graceful 
youth, of dark complexion, and sparkling eyes of black, 
from ‘which the mirth had not yet entirely vanished, as he 
made his bow to the ladies. 

“Mr. Dunwoodie!” cried Sarah, in surprise; “I was 35 
ignorant of your being in the house; you will find a cooler 
seat in this room.” 

“I thank you,” replied the young man, “but I must go 
and seek your brother, who placed me there in ambuscade, 
as he called it, with a promise of returning an hour ago.” 40 
Without making any further explanation, the youth bowed 


20 


THE SPY 


politely to the young women, distantly and with hauteur 
to the gentleman, and withdrew. Frances followed him 
into the hall, and blushing richly, enquired, in a hurried 
voice — 

5 “But why — why do you leave us, Mr. Dunwoodie? — 
Henry must soon return. ’’ 

The gentleman caught one of her hands in his own, and 
the stern expression of his countenance gave place to a look 
of admiration, as he replied — 
lo “You managed him famously, my dear little kinswoman; 
never — no never, forget the land of your birth; remember, 
if you are the grand-daughter of an Englishman, you are, 
also, the grand-daughter of a Peyton.’’ 

“Oh!” returned the laughing girl, “it would be difficult 
15 to forget that, with the constant lectures on genealogy 
before us, with which we are favoured by aunt Jeanette — 
but why do you go?” 

“I am on the wing for Virginia, and have much to do.” 
He pressed her hand as he spoke, and looking back, while 
20 in the act of closing the door, exclaimed, “Be true to your 
country — be American.” The ardent girl kissed her hand 
to him as he retired, and then instantly applying it with its* 
beautiful fellow to her burning cheeks, ran into her own 
apartment to hide her confusion. 

25 Between the open sarcasm of Frances, and the ill-con- 
cealed disdain of the young man. Colonel Wellmere had felt 
himself placed in an awkward predicament; but ashamed 
to resent such trifles in the presence of his mistress, he 
satisfied himself with observing, superciliously, as Dun- 
30 woodie left the room — 

“Quite a liberty for a youth in his situation; a shop-boy 
with a bundle, I fancy.” 

The idea of picturing the graceful Peyton Dunwoodie as 
a shop-boy could never enter the mind of Sarah, and she 
35 looked around her in surprise, when the Colonel continued — 

“This Mr. Dun — Dun — ” 

“Dunwoodie! Oh no — he is a relation of my aunt,” 
cried the young lady, “and an intimate friend of my brother; 
they were at school together, and only separated in Eng- 
40 land, when one went into the army, and the other to a 
French military academy.” 


THE SPY 


21 


‘‘His money appears to have been thrown away,” ob- 
served the Colonel, betraying the spleen he was unsuccess- 
fully striving to conceal. 

“We ought to hope so,” added Sarah, with a smile; “for 
it is said he intends joining the rebel arrny. He was brought s 
in here, in a French ship, and has just been exchanged; you 
may soon meet him in arms.” 

“Well, let him — I wish Washington plenty of such 
heroes;” and he 'turned to a more pleasant subject, by 
changing the discourse to themselves. lo 

A few weeks after this scene occurred, the army of Bur- 
goyne laid down their arms. Mr. Wharton, beginning to 
think the result of the contest doubtful, resolved to con- 
ciliate his countrymen, and gratify himself, by calling his 
daughters into his own abode. Miss Peyton consented to 15 
be their companion; and from that time, until the period 
at which we commenced our narrative, they had formed 
one family. 

Whenever the main army made any movements. Captain 
Wharton had, of course, accompanied it; and once or 20 
twice, under the protection of strong parties, acting in the 
, neighbourhood of the Locusts, he had enjoyed rapid and 
stolen interviews with his friends. A twelvemonth had, 
however, passed without his. seeing them; and the im- 
patient Henry had adopted the disguise we have men- 25 
tioned, and unfortunately arrived on the very evening that 
an unknown and rather suspicious guest was an inmate of 
the house, which seldom contained any other than its regu- 
lar inhabitants. 

“But, do you think he suspects me?” asked the captain, 30 
with anxiety, after pausing to listen to Caesar’s opinion of 
the Skinners. 

“How should he?” cried Sarah, “when your sisters and 
father could not penetrate your disguise.” 

“There is something mysterious in his manner; his looks 35 
are too prying for an indifferent observer,” continued young 
Wharton thoughtfully, “and his face seems familiar to me. 
The recent fate of Andre® has created much irritation on 
both sides. Sir Henry threatens retaliation for his death; 
and Washington is as firm as if half the world were at his 40 
command. The rebels would think me a fit subject for 


22 


THE SPY 


their plans just now, should I be so unlucky as to fall into 
their hands.” 

“But, my son,” cried his father, in great alarm, “you are 
not a spy ; you are not within the rebel — that is, the Ameri- 
5 can lines; — there is nothing here to spy.” 

“That might be disputed,” rejoined the young rnan, 
musing; “their pickets were as low as the White Plains® 
when I passed through in disguise. It is true my purposes 
are innocent; but how is it to appear? My visit to you 
lo would seem a cloak to other designs. Remember, sir, the 
treatment you received not a year since, for sending me a 
supply of fruit for the winter.” 

“That proceeded from the misrepresentations of my kind 
neighbours,” said Mr. Wharton, “who hoped, by getting 
15 my estate confiscated, to purchase good farms, at low 
prices. Peyton Dunwoodie, however, soon obtained our 
discharge; we were detained but a month.” 

“We !” repeated the son, in amazement; “did they take 
my sisters, also? — Fanny, you wrote me nothing of this.” 
20 “I believe,” said Frances, colouring highly, “I mentioned 
the kind treatment we received from your old friend. Major 
Dunwoodie; and that he procured my father’s release.” 

“True; — but were you with him in the rebel camp?” 

“Yes,” said the father, kindly; “Fanny would not suffer 
25 me to go alone. Jeanette and Sarah took charge of the 
Locusts, and this little girl was my companion, in captivity.” 

“And Fanny returned from such a scene a greater rebel 
than ever,” cried Sarah, indignantly; “one would think 
the hardships her father suffered would have cured her of 
30 such whims.” 

“What say you to the charge, my pretty sister?” cried 
the Captain gayly ; — “did Peyton strive to make you hate 
your king, more than he does himself?” 

“Peyton Dunwoodie hates no one,” said Frances, quickly; 
35 then, blushing at her own ardour, she added immediately, 
“he loves you, Henry, I know; for he has told me so again 
and again.” 

Young Wharton tapped his sister on the cheek, with a 
smile, as he asked her, in an affected whisper — “Did he 
40 tell you also that he loved my little sister Fanny?” 

“Nonsense,” said Frances; and the remnants of the 
supper-table soon disappeared under her superintendence. 


CHAPTER III 


^was when the fields were swept of Autumn’s store, 

And growling winds the fading foliage tore, 

Behind the Lowmon hill, the short-lived light, 

Descending slowly, usher’d in the night; 

When from the noisy town, with mournful look. 

His lonely way the meagre pedler took, 

Wilson. 

A STORM below the highlands of the Hudson, if it be intro- 
duced with an easterly wind, seldom lasts less than two 
days. Accordingly, as the inmates of the Locusts assem- 
bled, on the following morning, around their early break- 
fast, the driving rain was seen to strike in nearly horizontal 5 
lines against the windows of the building, and forbade the 
idea of exposing either man or beast to the tempest. Har- 
per was the last to appear ; after taking a view of the state 
of the weather, he apologised to Mr. Wharton for the neces- 
sity that existed for his trespassing on his goodness for a 10 
longer time. To appearances, the reply was as courteous 
as the excuse; yet Harper wore a resignation in his deport- 
ment that was widely different from the uneasy manner of 
the father. Henry Wharton had resumed his disguise with 
a reluctance amounting to disgust, but in obedience to the 15 
commands of his parent. No communications passed be- 
tween him and the stranger, after the first salutations of 
the morning had been paid by Harper to him, in common 
with the rest of the family. Frances had, indeed, thought 
there was something like a smile passing over the features 20 
of the traveller, when, on entering the room, he first con- 
fronted her brother; but it was confined to the eyes, seem- 
ing to want power to affect the muscles of the face, and 
was soon lost in the settled and benevolent expression which 
reigned in his countenance, with a sway but seldom inter- 25 
rupted. The eyes of the affectionate sister were turned in 
anxiety, for a moment, on her brother, and glancing again 

23 


24 


THE SPY 


on their unknown guest, met his look, as he offered her, 
with marked attention, one of the little civilities of the 
table; and the heart of the girl, which had begun to throb 
with violence, regained a pulsation as tempered as youth, 
5 health, and buoyant spirits could allow. While yet seated 
at the table, Caesar entered, and, laying a small parcel in 
silence by the side of his master, modestly retired behind 
his chair, where, placing one hand on its back, he continued 
in an attitude half familiar, half respectful, a listener, 
lo “What is this, Caesar?” enquired Mr. Wharton, turning 
the bundle over to examine its envelope, and eyeing it rather 
suspiciously. 

“The ’baccy, sir; Harvey Birch, he got home, and he 
bring you a little good ’baccy from York.” 

15 “ Harvey Birch ! ” rejoined the master with great delibera- 

tion, stealing a look at his guest. “I do not remember 
desiring him to purchase any tobacco for me; but as he 
has brought it, he must be paid for his trouble.” 

For an instant only, as the negro spoke, did Harper sus- 
20 pend his silent meal; his eye moved slowly from the servant 
to the master, and again all remained in its impenetrable 
reserve. 

To Sarah Wharton, this intelligence gave unexpected 
pleasure; rising from her seat, with impatience, she bade 
25 the black show Birch into the apartment; when, suddenly 
recollecting herself, she turned to the traveller with an 
apologising look, and added, “if Mr. Harper will excuse the 
presence of a pedler.” 

The indulgent benevolence expressed in the countenance 
30 of the stranger, as he bowed a silent acquiescence, spoke 
more eloquently than the nicest framed period, and the 
young lady repeated her order, with a confidence in its 
truth that removed all embarrassment. 

In the deep recesses of the windows of the cottage were 
35 seats of panelled work ; and the rich damask curtains, that 
had ornamented the parlour in Queen Street,® had been 
transferred to the Locusts, and gave to the room that in- 
describable air of comfort, which so gratefully announces 
the approach of a domestic winter. Into one of these 
40 recesses Captain Wharton now threw himself, drawing the 
curtain before him in such a manner as to conceal most of 


THE SPY 


25 


his person from observation; while his younger sister, los- 
ing her natural frankness of manner, in an air of artificial 
constraint, silently took possession of the other. 

Harvey Birch had been a pedler from his youth; at least 
so he frequently asserted, and his skill in the occupation 5 
went far to prove the truth of the declaration. He was a 
native of one of the eastern colonies; and, from something 
of superior intelligence which belonged to his father, it was 
thought they had known better fortunes in the land of their 
nativity. Harvey possessed, however, the common man- 10 
ners of the country, and was in no way distinguished from 
men of his class, but by his acuteness, and the mystery 
which enveloped his movements. Ten years before, they 
had arrived together in the vale, and, purchasing the hum- 
ble dwelling at which Harper had made his unsuccessful 15 
application, continued ever since peaceful inhabitants, but 
little noticed and but little known. Until age and infirmi- 
ties had prevented, the father devoted himself to the cul- 
tivation of the small spot of ground belonging to his pur- 
chase, while the son pursued with avidity his humble 20 
barter. Their orderly quietude had soon given them so 
much consideration in the neighbourhood, as to induce a 
maiden of five-and-thirty to forget the punctilio of her sex, 
and to accept the office of presiding over their domestic 
comforts. The roses had long before vanished from the 25 
cheeks of Katy Haynes, and she had seen in succession, both 
her male and female acquaintances forming the union so 
desirable to her sex, with but little or no hope left for her- 
self, when, with views of her own, she entered the family 
of the Birches. Necessity is a hard master, and, for the 3° 
want of a better companion, the father and son were in- 
duced to accept her services ; but still Katy was not want- 
ing in some qualities, which made her a very tolerable 
housekeeper. On the one hand, she was neat, industrious, 
honest, and a good manager. On the other, she was talka- 35 
tive, selfish, superstitious, and inquisitive. By dint of 
using the latter quality with consummate industry, she had 
not lived in the family five years when she triumphantly 
declared, that she had heard, or rather overheard, sufficient 
to enable her to say what had been the former fate of her 40 
associates. Could Katy have possessed enough of divina- 


26 


THE SPY 


tion to pronounce upon their future lot, her task would 
have been accomplished. From the private conversations 
of the parent and child, she learnt that a fire had reduced 
them from competence to poverty, and at the same time 
5 diminished the number of their family to two. There was 
a tremulousness in the voice of the father, as he touched 
lightly on the event, which affected even the heart of Katy ; 
but no barrier is sufficient to repel vulgar curiosity. She 
persevered, until a very direct intimation from Harvey, by 
lo threatening to supply her place with a female a few years 
younger than herself, gave her awful warning that there 
were bounds beyond which she was not to pass. From 
that period the curiosity of the housekeeper had been held 
in such salutary restraint, that, although no opportunity of 
15 listening, was ever neglected, she had been able to add but 
little to her stock of knowledge. There was, however, one 
piece of intelligence, and that of no little interest to herself, 
which she had succeeded in obtaining; and from the mo- 
ment of its acquisition, she directed her energies to the 
20 accomplishment of one object, aided by the double stimulus 
of love and avarice. 

Harvey was in the frequent habit of paying mysterious 
visits, in the depth of the night, to the fire-place of the 
apartment, that served for both kitchen and parlour. Here 
25 he was observed by Katy ; and, availing herself of his 
absence, and the occupations of the father, by removing 
one of the hearth-stones, she discovered an iron pot, glitter- 
ing with a metal that seldom fails to soften the hardest 
heart. Katy succeeded in replacing the stone without dis- 
30 covery, and never dared to trust herself with another visit. 
From that moment, however, the heart of the virgin lost 
its obduracy; and nothing interposed between Harvey and 
his happiness, but his own want of observation. 

The war did not interfere with the traffic of the pedler, 
35 who seized on the golden opportunity, which the interrup- 
tion of the regular trade afforded, and appeared absorbed 
in the one grand object of amassing money. For a year or 
two, his employment was uninterrupted, and his success 
proportionate; but, at length, dark and threatening hints 
40 began to throw suspicion around his movements, and the 
civil authority thought it incumbent on them to examine 


THE SPY 


27 


narrowly into his mode of life. His imprisonments, though 
frequent, were not long; and his escapes from the guardians 
of the law easy, compared to what he endured from the per- 
secution of the military. Still Birch survived, and still he 
continued his trade, though compelled to be very guarded 5 
in his movements, especially whenever he approached the 
northern boundaries of the county; or, in other words, the 
neighbourhood of the American lines. His visits to the 
Locusts had become less frequent, and his appearance at 
his own abode so seldom, as to draw forth from the disap- 10 
pointed Katy, in the fulness of her heart, the complaint we 
have related, in her reply to Harper. Nothing, however, 
seemed to interfere with the pursuits of this indefatigable 
trader; who with a view to dispose of certain articles for 
which he could only find purchasers in the very wealthiest 15 
families of the county, had now braved the fury of the 
tempest, and ventured to cross the half mile between his 
own residence and the house of Mr. Wharton. 

In a few minutes after receiving the commands of his 
young mistress, Caesar re-appeared, ushering into the apart- 20 
ment the subject of the foregoing digression. In person, 
the pedler was a man above the middle height, spare, but full 
of bone and muscle. At first sight, his strength seemed un- 
equal to manage the unwieldy burden of his pack; yet he 
threw it on and off with great dexterity, and with as much 25 
apparent ease as if it had been filled with feathers. His 
eyes were grey, sunken, restless, and, for the flitting mo- 
ments that they dwelt on the countenances of those with 
whom he conversed, they seemed to read the very soul. 
They possessed, however, two distinct expressions, which, 30 
in a great measure, characterised the whole man. When 
engaged in traffic, the intelligence of his face appeared 
lively, active, and flexible, though uncommonly acute; if 
the conversation turned on the ordinary transactions of 
life, his air became abstracted and restless; but if, by 35 
chance, the revolution and the country were the topic, 
his whole system seemed altered — all his faculties were 
concentrated: he would listen for a great length of time, 
without speaking, and then would break silence by some 
light and jocular remark, that was too much at variance 40 
with his former manner, not to be affectation. But of the 


28 


THE SPY 


war, and of his father, he seldom spoke, and always from 
some very obvious necessity. 

To a superficial observer, avarice would seem his ruling 
passion — and, all things considered, he was as unfit a sub- 
5 ject for the plans of Katy Haynes as can be readily imagined. 
On entering the room, the pedler relieved himself from his 
burden, which, as it stood on the floor, reached nearly to 
his shoulders, and saluted the family with modest civility. 
To Harper he made a silent bow, without lifting his eyes 
lofrom the carpet: but the curtain prevented any notice of 
the presence of Captain Wharton. Sarah gave but little 
time for the usual salutations, before she commenced her 
survey of the contents of the pack; and, for several minutes, 
the two were engaged in bringing to light the various articles 
15 it contained. The tables, chairs, and floor, were soon 
covered with silks, crapes, gloves, muslins, and all the 
stock of an itinerant trader. Caesar was employed to hold 
open the mouth of the pack, as its hoards were discharged, 
and occasionally he aided his young lady, by directing 
20 her admiration to some article of finery, which, from its 
deeper contrast in colours, he thought more worthy of her 
notice. At length, Sarah, having selected several articles, 
and satisfactorily arranged the prices, observed in a cheer- 
ful voice — 

25 “But, Harvey, you have told us no news. Has Lord 
Cornwallis beaten the rebels again?’’ 

The question could not have been heard; for the pedler, 
burying his body in the pack, brought forth a quantity of 
lace of exquisite fineness, and, holding it up to view, he 
30 required the admiration of the young lady. Miss Peyton 
dropped the cup she was engaged in washing, from her 
hand; and Frances exhibited the whole of that lovely face, 
which had hitherto only suffered one of its joyous eyes to 
be seen, beaming with a colour that shamed the damask 
35 which enviously concealed her figure. 

The aunt quitted her employment; and Birch soon dis- 
posed of a large portion of this valuable article. The 
praises of the ladies had drawn the whole person of the 
younger sister into view; and Frances was slowly rising 
40 from the window, as Sarah repeated her question, with an 
exultation in her voice, that proceeded more from pleasure 


THE SPY 


29 


in her purchase, than her political feelings. The younger 
sister resumed her seat, apparently examining the state of 
the clouds, while the pedler, finding a reply was expected, 
answered slowly — 

‘‘There is some talk, below, about Tarleton having de- 5 
feated General Sumter, on the Tiger river.” ° 

Captain Wharton now involuntarily thrust his head be- 
tween the opening of the curtains into the room; and 
Frances turning her ear in breathless silence, noticed the 
quiet eyes of Harper looking at the pedler, over the book 10 
he was affecting to read, with an expression that denoted 
him to be a listener of no ordinary interest. 

“Indeed!” cried the exulting Sarah; “Sumter — Sum- 
ter — who is he? I’ll not buy even a pin, until you tell 
me all the news,” she continued, laughing, and throwing 15 
down a muslin she had been examining. 

For a moment the pedler hesitated; his eye glanced 
towards Harper, who was yet gazing at him with settled 
meaning, and the whole manner of Birch was altered. 
Approaching the fire, he took from his mouth a large allow- 20 
ance of the Virginian weed, and depositing it, with the 
superabundance of its juices, without mercy to Miss Pey- 
ton’s shining andirons, he returned to his goods. 

“He lives somewhere among the niggars to the south,” 
answered the pedler, abruptly. 25 

“No more niggar than be yourself, Mister Birch,” inter- 
rupted Caesar tartly, dropping, at the same time, the cover- 
ing of the goods in high displeasure. 

“Hush, C^sesar — hush — never mind it now,” said Sarah 
Wharton soothingly, impatient to hear further. 30 

“A black man so good as white. Miss Sally,” continued 
the offended negro, “so long as he behave heself.” 

“And frequently he is much better,” rejoined his mistress : 
“but, Harvey, who is this Mr. Sumter?” 

A slight indication of humour showed itself on the face 35 
of the pedler — but it disappeared, and he continued as if 
the discourse had met with no interruption from the sen- 
sitiveness of the domestic. 

“As I was saying, he lives among the coloured people in 
the south” — Caesar resumed his occupation — “and he 40 
has lately had a skrimmage with this Colonel Tarleton — ” 


30 


THE SPY 


“Who defeated him of course,” cried Sarah, with confi- 
dence. 

“So say the troops at Morrisania.”® 

“But what do you say?” Mr. Wharton ventured to 
5 enquire, yet speaking in a low tone. 

“I repeat but what I hear,” said Birch, offering a piece 
of cloth to the inspection of Sarah, who rejected it in silence, j 
evidently determined to hear more before she made another 
purchase. 

lo “They say, however, at the Plains,” the pedler continued, , 
first throwing his eyes again round the room, and letting I 
them rest for an instant on Harper, “that Sumter and one i 
or two more were all that were hurt, and that the rig’lars : 
were all cut to pieces, for the militia were fixed snugly in a 1 
15 log barn.” I 

“Not very probable,” said Sarah, contemptuously, i 
“though I make no doubt the rebels got behind the logs.” i 

“I think,” said the pedler, coolly, again offering the silk, 
“it’s quite ingenious to get a log between one and a gun 
20 instead of getting between a gun and a log.” 

The eyes of Harper dropped quietly on the pages of the 
volume in his hand, while Frances, rising, came forward 
with a smile in her face, as she enquired, in a tone of affability 
that the pedler had never before witnessed from the younger 
25 sister — 

“Have you more of the lace, Mr. Birch?” 

The desired ai’ticle was immediately produced and j 
Frances became a purchaser also. By her order a glass of > 
liquor was offered to the trader, who took it with thanks, 

30 and, having paid his compliments to the master of the 
house and the ladies, drank the beverage. 

“So, it is thought that Colonel Tarleton has worsted 
General Sumter?” said Mr. Wharton, affecting to be em- 
ployed in mending the cup that was broken by the eager- 
35 ness of his sister-in-law. 

“I believe they think so at Morrisania,” said Birch, 
dryly. 

“Have you any other news, friend?” asked Captain 
Wharton, venturing to thrust his face without the curtains 
4° again. 

“Have you heard that Major Andr 4 has been hanged?” 


THE SPY 


31 


Captain Wharton started, and for a moment glances of 
great significance were exchanged between him and the 
trader, when he observed, with affected indifference, “that 
must have been some weeks ago.” 

“Does his execution make much noise?” asked the 5 
father, striving to make the broken china unite. 

“People will talk, you know, ’Squire.” 

“Is there any probability of movements below, my friend, 
that will make travelling dangerous?” asked Harper, look- 
ing steadily at the other, in expectation of his reply. 10 

Some bunches of ribands fell from the hands of Birch; 
his countenance changed instantly, losing its keen expres- 
sion in intent meaning, as he answered slowly — “It is 
some time since the rig’lar cavalry were out, and I saw 
some of De Lancey’s men cleaning their arms, as I passed 15 
their quarters; it would be no wonder if they took the 
scent soon, for the Virginia horse are low in the county.” 

“Are they in much force?” asked Mr. Wharton, suspend- 
ing all employment in anxiety. 

“I did not count them.” 20 

Frances was the only observer of the change in the man- 
ner of Birch, and, on turning to Harper, he had resumed 
his book in silence. She took some of the ribands in her 
hand — laid them down again — and, bending over the 
goods, so that her hair, falling in rich curls, shaded her 25 
face, she observed, blushing with a colour that suffused her 
neck — • 

“I thought the southern horse had marched towards the 
Delaware.” 

“It may be so,” said Birch; “I passed the troops at a 3° 
distance.” 

Caesar had now selected a piece of calico, in which the 
gaudy colours of yellow and red were contrasted on a white 
ground, and, after admiring it for several minutes, he laid 
it down with a sigh, as he exclaimed, “Berry pretty calico.” 35 

“That,” said Sarah; “yes, that would make a proper 
gown for your wife, Caesar.” 

“Yes, Miss Sally,” cried the delighted black, “it make 
old Dinah heart leap for joy — so berry genteel.” 

“Yes,” added the pedler, quaintly, “that is only want- 4° 
ing to make Dinah look like a rainbow.” 


32 


THE SPY 


Csesar eyed his young mistress eagerly, until she en- 
quired of Harvey the price of the article. 

“ Why, much as I light of chaps,” said the pedler. 

“How much?” demanded Sarah in surprise. 

5 “According to my luck in finding purchasers; for my 
friend Dinah, you may have it at four shillings.” 

“It is too much,” said Sarah, turning to some goods for 
herself. 

“Monstrous price for coarse calico. Mister Birch,” 
lo grumbled Caesar, dropping the opening of the pack 
again. 

“We will say three, then,” added the pedler, “if you like 
that better.” 

“Be sure he like ’em better,” said Caesar, smiling good- 
15 humouredly, and re-opening the pack — “Miss Sally like 
a free shilling when she give, and a four shilling when she 
take.” 

The bargain was immediately concluded; but in meas- 
uring, the cloth wanted a little of the well-known ten yards 
20 required by the dimensions of Dinah. By dint of a strong 
arm, however, it grew to the desired length, under the 
experienced eye of the pedler, who conscientiously added a 
riband of corresponding brilliancy with the calico; and 
Caesar hastily withdrew, to communicate the joyful intelli- 
25 gence to his aged partner. 

During the movements created by the conclusion of the 
purchase. Captain Wharton had ventured to draw aside 
the curtain, so as to admit a view of his person, and he 
now enquired of the pedler, who had begun to collect the 
30 scattered goods, at what time he had left the city. 

“At early twilight,” was the answer. 

“So lately!” cried the other in surprise; and then cor- 
recting his manner, by assuming a more guarded air, he 
continued — “Could you pass the pickets at so late an I 
35 hour?” 

“I did,” was the laconic reply. 

“You must be well known by this time, Harvey, to the 
officers of the British army,” cried Sarah, smiling know- 
ingly on the pedler. 

40 “I know some of them by sight,” said Birch, glancing 
his eyes round the apartment, taking in their course Cap- 


THE SPY 


33 


tain Wharton, and resting for an instant on the countenance 
of Harper. 

Mr. Wharton had listened intently to each speaker, in 
succession, and- had so far lost the affectation of indifference, 
as to be crushing in his hand the pieces of china on which 5 
he had expended so much labour in endeavouring to mend 
it; when, observing the pedler tying the last knot in his 
pack, he asked abruptly — 

“Are we about to be disturbed again with the enemy?” 

“W^ho do you call the enemy?” said the pedler, raising 10 
himself erect, and giving the other a look, before which the 
eyes of Mr. Wharton sunk in instant confusion. 

“All are enemies who disturb our peace,” said Miss Pey- 
. ton, observing that her brother was unable to speak. “But 
are the royal troops out from below?” 15 

“’Tis quite likely they soon may be,” returned Birch, 
raising his pack from the floor, and preparing to leave the 
room. 

“And the continentals,” continued Miss Peyton mildly, 
“are the continentals in the county?” 20 

Harvey was about to utter something in reply, when the 
door opened, and Csesar made his appearance, attended by 
his delighted spouse. 

The race of blacks of .which Caesar was a favourable 
specimen is becoming very rare. The old family servant, 25 
who, born and reared in the dwelling of his master, identi- 
fied himself with the welfare of those whom it was his lot 
to serve, is giving place in every direction to that vagrant 
class which has sprung up within the last thirty years, and 
. whose members roam through the country unfettered by 30 
principles, and uninfluenced by attachments. For it is one 
of the curses of slavery, that its victims become incompetent 
,to the attributes of a freeman. The short curly hair of 
,«f Caesar had acquired from age a colouring of grey, that 
; added greatly to the venerable cast of his appearance. 35 
Long and indefatigable applications of the comb had 
straightened the close curls of his forehead, until they 
stood erect in a stiff and formal brush, that gave at least 
two inches to his stature. The shining black of his youth 
had lost its glistening hue, and it had been succeeded by a 40 
dingy brown. His eyes, which stood at a most formidable 

D 


34 


THE SPY 


distance from each other, were small, and characterised by 
an expression of good feeling, occasionally interrupted by 
the petulance of an indulged servant; they, however, now 
danced with inward delight. His nose possessed, in an 
5 eminent manner, all the requisites for smelling, but with 
the most modest unobtrusiveness ; the nostrils being abun- 
dantly capacious, without thrusting themselves in the way 
of their neighbours. His mouth was capacious to a fault, 
and was only tolerated on account of the double row of 
lo pearls it contained. In person Caesar was short, and we 
should say square, had not all the angles and curves of his 
figure bid defiance to any thing like mathematical sym- 
metry. His arms were long and muscular, and terminated 
by two bony hands, that exhibited on one side, a colouring 
15 of blackish grey, and on the other, a faded pink. But it 
was in his legs that nature had indulged her most capricious 
humour. There was an abundance of material injudiciously 
used. The calves were neither before nor behind, but rather 
on the outer side of the limb, inclining forward, and so close 
20 to the knee as to render the free use of that joint a sub- i 
ject of doubt. In the foot, considering it as a base on 
which the body was to rest, Caesar had no cause of com- 
plaint, unless, indeed, it might be that the leg was placed 
so near the centre, as to make it sometimes a matter of 
25 dispute, whether he was not walking backwards. But 
whatever might be the faults a statuary® could discover in 
his person, the heart of Caesar Thompson was in the right 
place, and, we doubt not, of very just dimensions. 

Accompanied by his ancient companion, Caesar now ad- 
30 vanced, and paid his tribute of gratitude in words. Sarah 
received them with great complacency, and made a few 
compliments to the taste of the husband, and the prob- 
able appearance of the wife. Frances, with a face beam- 
ing with a look of pleasure that corresponded to the smiling 
35 countenances of the blacks, offered the service of her needle 
in fitting the admired calico to its future uses. The offer 
was humbly and gratefully accepted. 

As Caesar followed his wife and the pedler from the apart- 
ment, and was in the act of closing the door, he indulged 
40 himself in a grateful soliloquy, by saying aloud — 

“ Good little lady — Miss Fanny — take care of he fader 


THE SPY 


35 


— love to make a gown for old Dinah, too.” What else 
his feelings might have induced him to utter is unknown, 
but the sound of his voice was heard some time after the 
distance rendered his words indistinct. 

Harper had dropped his book, and he sat an admiring 5 
witness of the scene; and Frances enjoyed a double satis- 
faction, as she received an approving smile from a face 
which concealed, under the traces of deep thought and en- 
grossing care, the benevolent expression which charac- 
terises all the best feelings of the human heart. 10 


I 


CHAPTER IV 

It is the form, the eye, the word, i 

The bearing of that stranger Lord, J 

His stature, manly, bold, and tall, | 

Built like a castle’s battled wall. 

Yet moulded in such just degrees, , 

His giant strength seems lightsome ease, [ 

Weather and war their rougher trace 
Have left on that majestic face; — 

But ’tis his dignity of eye ! 

There, if a suppliant, would I fly. 

Secure, ’mid danger, wrongs, and grief, 

Of sympathy, redress, relief — 

That glance, if guilty, would I dread 
More than the doom that spoke me dead.” 

“ Enough, enough ! ” the princess cried, 

“ ’Tis Scotland’s hope, her joy, her pride ! ” 

Walter Scott. 

The party sat in silence for many minutes after the pedler ; 
had withdrawn. Mr. Wharton had heard enough to in- 
crease his uneasiness, without in the least removing his 
apprehensions on behalf of his son. The Captain was im- 
5 patiently wishing Harper in any other place than the one 
he occupied with such apparent composure, while Miss 
Peyton completed the disposal of her breakfast equipage, 
with the mild complacency of her nature, aided a little by 
an inward satisfaction at possessing so large a portion of • 
lo the trader’s lace — Sarah was busily occupied in arrang- 
ing her purchases, and Frances was kindly assisting in the 
occupation, disregarding her; own neglected bargains, when 
the stranger suddenly broke the silence by saying — 

“ If any apprehensions of me induce Captain Wharton ; 
IS to maintain his disguise, I wish him to be undeceived; had 
I motives for betraying him, they could not operate under 
present circumstances.” 

The younger sister sank into her seat colourless and 

36 


THE SPY 


37 


astonished. Miss Peyton dropped the tea-tray she was 
lifting from the table, and Sarah sat with her purchases 
unheeded in her lap, in speechless surprise. Mr. Wharton 
was stupefied; but the Captain, hesitating a moment from 
astonishment, sprang into the middle of the room, and 5 
exclaimed, as he tore off the instruments of his disguise — 

I believe you from my soul, and this tiresome imposi- 
tion shall continue no longer. Yet I am at a loss to con- 
ceive in what manner you should know me.’' 

‘‘You really look so much better in your proper person, 10 
Captain Wharton,” said Harper, with a slight smile, “I 
would advise you never to conceal it in future. There, is 
enough to betray you, if other sources of detection were 
wanting:” as he spoke, he pointed to a picture suspended 
over the mantel-piece, which exhibited the British officer 15 
in his regimentals. 

“ I had flattered myself,” cried young Wharton, with a 
laugh, “that I looked better on the canvass than in a mas- 
querade. You must be a close observer, sir.” 

“ Necessity has made me one,” said Harper, rising from 20 
his seat. 

• Frances met him as he was about to withdraw, and, 
taking his hand between both her own, said with earnest- ' 
ness, her cheeks mantling with their richest vermilion — 

“ You cannot — you will not betray my brother.” 25 

For an instant Harper paused in silent admiration of the 
lovely pleader, and then, folding her hands on his breast, he 
replied solemnly — “I cannot, and I will not ; ” he re- 
leased her hands, and laying his own on her head gently, 
continued — “If the blessing of a stranger can profit you, 3 ° 
receive it.” He turned, and, bowing low, retired, with a 
delicacy that was duly appreciated by those he quitted, to 
his own apartment. 

The whole party were deeply impressed with the ingenu- 
ous and solemn manner of the traveller, and all but the 35 
father found immediate relief in his declaration. Some of 
the cast-off clothes of the captain, which had been removed 
with the goods from the city, were produced; and young 
Wharton, released from the uneasiness of his disguise, 
began at last to enjoy a visit which had been undertaken 4° 
at so much personal risk to himself. Mr. Wharton retiring 


38 


THE SPY 


to his apartment, in pursuance of his regular engagements, i 
the ladies, with the young man, were left to an uninter- • 
rupted communication on such subjects as were most agree- | 
able. Even Miss Peyton was affected with the spirits of | 
5 her young relatives; and they sat for an hour enjoying, in j 
heedless confidence, the pleasures of an unrestrained con- j 
versation, without reflecting on any danger which might i 
be impending over them. The city and their acquaintances » 
were not long neglected; for Miss Peyton, who had never I 
lo forgotten the many agreeable hours of her residence within I 
its boundaries, soon enquired, among others, after their old i 
acquaintance. Colonel Wellmere. | 

“ Oh! " cried the Captain, gayly, ‘‘ he yet continues there, : 
as handsome and as gallant as ever.’’ j 

15 Although a woman be not actually in love, she seldom i 
hears without a blush the name of a man whom she might { 
love, and who has been connected with herself, by idle i 
gossips, in the amatory rumour of the day. Such had been 
the case with Sarah, and she dropped her eyes on the j 
20 carpet with a smile, that, aided by the blush which suf- f 
fused her cheek, in no degree detracted from her native i 
charms. 

Captain Wharton, without heeding this display of in- 
terest in his sister, immediately continued — “At times he ) 
25 is melancholy — we tell him it must be love.” Sarah raised r 
her eyes to the face of her brother, and was consciously 
turning them on the rest of the party, when she met those - 
of her sister, laughing with good humour and high spirits, j 
as she cried, “Poor man, does he despair?” : 

30 “Why, no — one would think he could not; the eldest 
son of a man of wealth, so handsome, and a Colonel.” , 
“Strong reasons, indeed, why he should prevail,” said 
Sarah, endeavouring to laugh; “ more particularly the | 
latter.” I 

35 “Let me tell you,” replied the Captain, gravely, “a Lieu- 
tenant-Colonelcy in the Guards is a very pretty thing.” | 
“And Colonel Wellmere a very pretty man,” added i 
Frances. 

“ Nay, Frances,” returned her sister, “ Colonel Wellmere 
40 was never a favourite of yours ; he is too loyal to his king 
to be agreeable to your taste?” 


THE SPY 


39 


Frances quickly answered, “And is not Henry loyal to 
his king?’' 

“Come, come,” said Miss Peyton, “no difference of 
opinion about the Colonel — he is a favourite of mine.” 

“Fanny likes Majors better,” cried the brother, pulling 5 
her upon his knee. 

“Nonsense,” said the blushing girl, as she endeavoured 
to extricate herself from the grasp of her laughing brother. 

“ It surprises me,” continued the Captain, “ that Peyton, 
when he procured the release of my father, did not endeavour 10 
to detain my sister in the rebel camp.” 

“ That might have endangered his own liberty,” said the 
smiling girl, resuming her seat; “ you know it is liberty for 
which Major Dunwoodie is fighting.” 

“ Liberty !” exclaimed Sarah; “ very pretty liberty which 15 
exchanges one master for fifty.” 

“ The privilege of changing masters at all is a liberty.” 

“And one you ladies would sometimes be glad to exer- 
cise,” cried the Captain. 

“We like, I believe, to have the liberty of choosing who 20 
they shall be in the first place,” said the laughing girl; 
“don’t we, aunt Jeanette?” 

“Me!” cried Miss Peyton, starting; “what do I know 
of such things, child? you must ask some one else, if you 
wish to learn such matters.” 25 

“Ah! you would have us think you were never young; 
but what am I to believe of all the tales I have heard about 
the handsome Miss Jeanette Peyton?” 

“ Nonsense, my dear, nonsense,” said the aunt, endeavour- 
ing to suppress a smile; “it is very silly to believe all you 3° 
hear.” 

“Nonsense, do you call it?” cried the Captain, gayly; 
“to this hour General Montrose toasts Miss Peyton; I 
heard him within the week, at Sir Henry’s® table.” 

“Why, Henry, you are as saucy as your sister; and to 35 
break in upon your folly, I must take you to see my new 
home-made manufactures, which I will be bold enough to 
put in contrast with the finery of Birch.” 

The young people rose to follow their aunt, in perfect 
good humour with each other and the world. On ascend- 4° 
ing the stairs to the place of deposit for Miss Peyton’s 


40 


THE SPY 


articles of domestic economy, she availed herself, how- 
ever, of an opportunity to enquire of her nephew, whether 
General Montrose suffered as much from the gout, as he 
had done when she knew him. 

5 It is a painful discovery we make, as we advance in life, 
that even those we most love are not exempt from its 
frailties. When the heart is fresh, and the view of the 
future unsullied by the blemishes which have been gathered 
from the experience of the past, our feelings are most holy; 
lo we love to identify with the persons of our natural friends 
all those qualities to which wa ourselves aspire, and all 
those virtues we have been taught to revere. The confi- 
dence with which we esteem seems a part of our nature; 
and there is a purity thrown around the affections which 
15 tie us to our kindred, that after life can seldom hope to 
see uninjured. The family of Mr. Wharton continued to 
enjoy, for the remainder of the day,, a happiness to which 
they had long been strangers; and one that sprung, in its 
younger members, from the delights of the most confident 
20 affection, and the exchange of the most disinterested en- 
dearments. 

Harper appeared only at the dinner table,. and he retired 
with the cloth, under the pretence of some engagements in 
his own room. Notwithstanding the confidence created 
25 by his manner, the family felt his absence a relief; for the 
visit of Captain W’harton was necessarily to be confined to 
a very few days, both from the limitation of his leave of 
absence, and the danger of a discovery. 

All dread of consequences, however, was lost in the pleas- 
30 ure of the meeting. Once or twice during the day, Mr. 
Wharton had suggested a doubt as to the character of his 
unknown guest, and the possibility of the detection of his 
son proceeding in some manner from his information : but 
the idea was earnestly opposed by all his children; even 
35 Sarah uniting with her brother and sister in pleading warmly 
in favour of the sincerity expressed in the outward appear- 
ance of the traveller. 

“Such appearances, my children,” replied the despond- 
ing parent, “are but too often deceitful; when men like 
40 Major Andr6 lend themselves to the purposes of fraud, it 
is idle to reason from qualities, much less externals.” 


THE SPY 


41 


“ Fraud cried his son quickly; “ surely, sir, you forget 
that Major Andre was serving his king, and that the usages 
of war justified the measure.” 

“ And did not the usages of war justify his death, Henry ? ” 
inquired Frances, speaking in a low voice, unwilling to 5 
abandon what she thought the cause of her country, and 
yet unable to suppress her feelings for the man. 

“ Never !” exclaimed the young man, springing from his 
seat, and pacing the floor rapidly — “ Frances, you shock 
me; suppose it should be my fate, even now, to fall into 10 
the power of the rebels; you would vindicate my execu- 
tion — perhaps exult in the cruelty of Washington.” 

“ Henry !” said Frances, solemnly, quivering with emo- 
tion, and with a face pale as death, “you little know my 
heart.” 15 

“ Pardon me, my sister — my little Fanny,” cried the 
repentant youth, pressing her to his bosom, and kissing off 
the tears which had burst, spite of her resolution, from her 
eyes. 

“ It is very foolish to regard your hasty words, I know,” 20 
said Frances, extricating herself from his arms, and rais- 
ing her yet humid eyes to his face with a smile ; “ but re- 
proach from those we love is most severe, Henry; particu- 
larly — where we — we think — we know” — her paleness 
■gradually gave place to the colour of the rose, as she con- 25 • 
eluded in a low voice, with her eyes directed to the carpet, 

“ we are undeserving of it.” 

Miss Peyton moved from her own seat to the one next 
her niece, and, kindly taking her hand, observed, “ You 
should not suffer the impetuosity of your brother to affect 30 
you so much; boys, you know, are proverbially ungovern- 
able.” 

“ And, from my conduct, you might add cruel,” said the 
Captain, seating himself on the other side of his sister; 

“ but on the subject of the death of Andre we are all of us 35 
uncommonly sensitive. You did not know hiip; he was 
all that was brave — that was accomplished — that was 
estimable.” Frances smiled faintly, and shook her head, 
but made no reply. Her brother, observing the marks of 
incredulity in her countenance, continued — “ You doubt 4° 
it, and justify his death?” 


42 


THE SPY 


“ 1 do not doubt his worth,” replied the maid, mildly, 

“ nor his being deserving of a more happy fate ; but I can- 
not doubt the propriety of Washington’s conduct. I know 
but little of the customs of war, and wish to know less; 
shut with what hopes of success could the Americans con- 
tend, if they yielded all the principles which long usage 
had established, to the exclusive purposes of the British?” 

“Why contend at all?” cried Sarah, impatiently; “be- 
sides, being rebels, all their acts are illegal.” 
lo “ Women are but mirrors, which reflect the images before 
them,” cried the Captain, good-naturedly. “In Frances I 
see the picture of Major Dunwoodie, and in Sarah — ” 

“Colonel Wellmere,” interrupted the younger sister, 
laughing, and blushing crimson. “ I must confess I am 
IS indebted to the Major for my reasoning — am I not, aunt 
Jeanette?” 

“ I believe it is something like his logic, indeed, child.” 

“ I plead guilty; and you, Sarah, have not forgotten the 
learned discussions of Colonel Wellmere.” 

20 “I trust I never forget the right,” said Sarah, emulating 
her sister in colour, and rising, under the pretence of avoid- 
ing the heat of the fire. 

Nothing occurred of any moment during the rest of the 
day; but in the evening CjEsar reported that he had over- 
25 heard voices in the room of Harper conversing in a low 
tone. The apartment occupied by the traveller was the 
wing at the extremity of the building, opposite to the par- 
lour in which the family ordinarily assembled; and it 
seems, that Caesar had established a regular system of . 
30 espionage, with a view to the safety of his young master. J 
This intelligence gave some uneasiness to all the members ^ 
of the family; but the entrance of Harper himself, with ' 
the air of benevolence and sincerity which shone through ' 
his reserve, soon removed the doubts from the breast of : 
35 all but Mr. Wharton. His children and sister believed 
Caesar to have been mistaken, and the evening passed off 
without any additional alarm. 

On the afternoon of the succeeding day, the party were , 
assembled in the parlour around the tea-table of Miss Pey- ' 
40 ton, when a change in the weather occurred. The thin • 
scud, that apparently floated but a short distance above j 


THE SPY 


43 


the tops of the hills, began to drive from the west towards 
the east in astonishing rapidity. The rain yet continued 
to beat against the eastern windows of the house with 
fury; in that direction the heavens were dark and gloomy. 
Frances was gazing at the scene with the desire of youth 
to escape from the tedium of confinement, when, as if by 
magic, all was still. The rushing winds had ceased, the 
pelting of the storm was over, and, springing to the window, 
with delight pictured in her face, she saw a glorious ray of 
sunshine lighting the opposite wood. The foliage glittered 
with the checkered beauties of the October leaf, reflecting 
back from the moistened boughs the richest lustre of an 
American autumn. In an instant, the piazza, which opened 
to the south, was thronged with the inmates of the cottage. 
The air was mild, balmy, and refreshing; in the east, 
clouds, which might be likened to the retreating masses of 
a discomfited army, hung around the horizon in awful and 
increasing darkness. At a little elevation above the cottage, 
the thin vapour was still rushing towards the east with 
amazing velocity; while in the west the sun had broken 
forth and shed his parting radiance on the scene below, 
aided by the fullest richness of a clear atmosphere and a 
freshened herbage. Such moments belong only to the 
climate of America, and are enjoyed in a degree propor- 
tioned to the suddenness of the contrast, and the pleasure 
we experience in escaping from the turbulence of the ele- 
ments to the quiet of a peaceful evening, and an air still 
as the softest mornings in June.r 

“What a magnificent scene!” said Harper, in a low 
tone; “how grand! how awfully sublime ! — may such a 
quiet speedily await the struggle in which my country is 
engaged, and such a glorious evening follow the day of her 
adversity!” 

Frances, who stood next to him, alone heard the voice. 
Turning in amazement from the view to the speaker, she 
saw him standing bare-headed, erect, and with his eyes 
lifted to Heaven. There was no longer the quiet which 
had seemed their characteristic, but they were lighted into 
something like enthusiasm, and a slight flush passed over 

his features. , , ^ v 

There can be no danger apprehended from such a man. 


5 

10 

15 

20 

25 

30 

35 

40 


44 


THE SPY 


thought Frances; such feelings belong only to the vir- 
tuous. 

The musings of the party were now interrupted by the 
sudden appearance of the pedler. He had taken advantage 
5 of the first gleam of sunshine to hasten to the cottage. 
Heedless of wet or dry as it lay in his path, with arms 
swinging to and fro, and with his head bent forward of his 
body several inches, Harvey Birch approached the piazza, 
with a gait peculiarly his own. — It was the quick, length- 
lo ened pace of an itinerant vender of goods. 

“ Fine evening,” said the pedler, saluting the party, with- 
out raising his eyes; '‘quite warm and agreeable for the 
season.” 

Mr. Wharton assented to the remark, and enquired 
15 kindly after the health of his father. Harvey heard him, 
and continued standing for some time in moody silence; 
but the question being repeated, he answered with a slight 
tremour in his voice — ■ 

" He fails fast; old age and hardships will do their work.” 
20 The pedler turned his face from the view of most of the 
family ; but Frances noticed his glistening eyes and quiver- 
ing lip, and, for the second time, Harvey rose in her estimation. 

The valley in which the residence of Mr. Wharton stood 
ran in a direction from north-west to south-east, and the 
25 house was placed on the side of a hill which terminated its 
length in the former direction. A small opening, occasioned 
by the receding of the opposite hill, and the fall of the 
land to the level of the tide water, afforded a view of the 
Sound® over the tops of the distant woods on its margin. 
30 The surface of the water which had so lately been lashing 
the shores with boisterous fury, was already losing its 
ruffled darkness in the long and regular undulations that 
succeeded a tempest, while the light air from the south- 
west was gently touching their summits, lending its feeble 
35 aid in stilling the waters. Some dark spots were now to 
be distinguished, occasionally rising into view, and again 
sinking behind the lengthened waves which interposed 
themselves to the sight. They were unnoticed by all but 
the pedler. He had seated himself on the piazza, at a 
40 distance from Harper, and appeared to have forgotten the 
object of his visit. His roving eye, however, soon caught 


THE SPY 


45 


a glimpse of these new objects in the view, and he sprang 
up with alacrity, gazing intently towards the water. He 
changed his place, glanced his eye with marked uneasiness 
on Harper, and then said with great emphasis — 

“ The rig’lars must be out from below.” 5 

Why do you think so ? ” enquired Captain Wharton, 
eagerly. “God send it may be true; I want their escort 
in again.” 

“ Them ten whale-boats would not move so fast unless 
they were better manned than common.” 10 

“Perhaps,” cried Mr. Wharton in alarm, “they are — 
they are continentals returning from the island.” 

“They look like rig’lars,” said the pedler, with meaning. 
“Look!” repeated the Captain, “there is nothing but 
spots to be seen.” 15 

Harvey disregarded his observation, but seemed to be 
soliloquising, as he said in an under-tone, “ They came out 
before the gale — have laid on the island these two days 
— horse are on the road — there will soon be fighting near 
us,” During this speech, Birch several times glanced his 20 
eye towards Harper, with evident uneasiness, but no cor- 
responding emotion betrayed any interest of that gentle- 
man in the scene. He stood in silent contemplation of the 
view, and seemed enjoying the change in the air. As 
Birch concluded, however. Harper turned to his host, and 25 
mentioned that his business would not admit of unnecessary 
delay; he would, therefore, avail himself of the fine even- 
ing to ride a few miles on his journey. Mr. Wharton made 
many professions of regret at losing so agreeable an in- 
mate; but was too mindful of his duty not to speed the 3° 
parting guest, and orders were instantly given to that effect. 

The uneasiness of the pedler increased in a manner for 
which nothing apparent could account; his eye was con- 
stantly wandering towards the lower end of the vale, as if 
in expectation of some interruption from that quarter. At 35 
length Cffisar appeared, leading the noble beast which was 
to bear the weight of the traveller. The pedler officiously 
assisted to tighten the girths, and fasten the blue cloak and 
vallise to the mail-straps. 

Every preparation being completed, Harper proceeded 40 
to take his leave. To Sarah and her aunt he paid his com- 


46 


THE SPY 


pliments with ease and kindness; but when he came to 
Frances, he paused a moment, while his face assumed an 
expression of more than ordinary benignity. His eye re- 
peated the blessing which had before fallen from his lips, 
5 and the girl felt her cheeks glow, and her heart beat, with 
a quicker pulsation, as he spoke his adieus. There was a 
mutual exchange of polite courtesy between the host and 
his parting guest; but as Harper frankly offered his hand 
to Captain Wharton, he remarked, in a manner of great 
10 solemnity — 

“The step you have undertaken is one of much danger, 
and disagreeable consequences, to yourself may result from 
it; in such a case, I may have it in my power to prove the 
gratitude I owe your family for its kindness.” 

IS “Surely, sir,” cried the father, losing sight of delicacy 
in apprehension for his child, “you will keep secret the dis- 
covery which your being in my house has enabled you to 
make..” 

Harper turned quickly to the speaker, and then, losing 
20 the sternness which had begun to gather on his counte- 
nance, he answered mildly, “ I have learnt nothing in your 
family, sir, of which I was ignorant before; but your son 
is safer from my knowledge of his visit than he would be 
without it.” 

25 He bowed to the whole party, and without taking any 
notice of the pedler, other than by simply thanking him for 
his attentions, mounted his horse, and, riding steadily and 
gracefully through the little gate, was soon lost behind the 
hill which sheltered the valley to the northward. 

30 The eyes of the pedler followed the retiring figure of the 
horseman so long as it continued within view, and as it 
disappeared from his sight, he drew a long and heavy sigh, 
as if relieved from a load of apprehension. The Whartons 
had meditated in silence on the character and visit of their 
35 unknown guest for the same period, when the father ap- 
proached Birch, and observed — 

“I am yet your debtor, Harvey, for the tobacco you 
were so kind as to bring me from the city.” 

“ If it should not prove so good as the first,” replied the 
40 pedler, fixing a last and lingering look in the direction of 
Harper s route, “ it is owing to the scarcity of the article.” 


THE SPY 


47 


‘‘I like it much/’ continued the other; “but you have 
forgotten to name the price.” 

The countenance of the trader changed, and, losing its 
expression of deep care in a natural acuteness, he answered — 

“ It is hard to say what ought to be the price; I believe 5 
I must leave it to your own generosity.” 

Mr. Wharton had taken a hand well filled with the 
images of Carolus III.° from his pocket, and now extended 
it towards Birch with three of the pieces between his finger 
and thumb. Harvey’s eyes twinkled as he contemplated 10 
the reward; and rolling over in his mouth a large quantity 
of the article in question, coolly stretched forth his hand, 
into which the dollars fell with a most agreeable sound; 
but not satisfied with the transient music of their fall, the 
pedler gave each piece in succession a ring on the stepping- 15 
stone of the piazza, before he consigned it to the safe keep- 
ing of a huge deerskin purse, which vanished from the 
sight of the spectators so dexterously, that not one of them 
could have told about what part of his person it was 
secreted. 20 

This very material point in his business so satisfactorily 
completed, the pedler rose from his seat on the floor of the 
piazza, and approached to where Captain Wharton stood, 
supporting his sisters on either arm, as they listened with 
the lively interest of affection to his conversation. 25 

The agitation of the preceding incidents had caused such 
an expenditure of the juices which had become necessary 
to the mouth of the pedler, that a new supply of the weed 
was required before he could turn his attention to busi- 
ness of lesser moment. This done he asked abruptly — 30 

“ Captain Wharton, do you go in to-night ? ” 

“No!” said the Captain, laconically, and looking at his 
lovely burdens with great affection. “ Mr. Birch, would 
you have me leave such company so soon, when I may 
never enjoy it again ?” 35 

“Brother!” said Frances, “jesting on such a subject is 
cruel.” 

“ I rather guess,” continued the pedler, coolly, “ now the 
storm is over, the Skinners may be moving; you had better 
shorten your visit, Captain Wharton.” 4° 

“Oh !” cried the British officer, “a few guineas will buy 


48 


THE SPY 


off those rascals at any time, should I meet them. No, 
no, Mr. Birch, here I stay until morning.” 

“ Money could not liberate Major Andre,” said the pedler, 
dryly. 

5 Both the sisters now turned to the Captain in alarm, 
and the elder observed — 

“ You had better take the advice of Harvey ; rest assured, 
brother, his opinion in such matters ought not to be dis- 
regarded.” 

lo “Yes,” added the younger, “if, as I suspect, Mr. Birch 
assisted you to come here, your safety, our happiness, dear 
Henry, requires you to listen to him now.” 

“ I brought myself out, and can take myself in,” said 
the Captain, positively; “our bargain went no further 
15 than to procure my disguise, and to let me know when 
the coast was clear; and in the latter particular, you were 
mistaken, Mr. Birch.” 

“I was,” said the pedler, with some interest, “and the 
greater is the reason why you should get back to-night; 
20 the pass I gave you will serve but once.” 

“Cannot you forge another?” 

The pale cheek of the trader showed an unusual colour, 
but he continued silent, with his eyes fixed on the ground, 
until the young man added, with great positiveness’ — 
25 “Here I stay this night, come what will.” 

“ Captain Wharton,” said the pedler, with great delibera- 
tion and marked emphasis, “ beware a tall Virginian, with 
huge whiskers! he is below you to my knowledge; the 
devil can’t deceive him; I never could but once.” 

30 “Let him beware of me,” said Wharton, haughtily; 
“but, Mr. Birch, I exonerate you from further responsi- 
bility.” 

“Will you give me that in writing?” asked the cautious 
Birch. 

35 “Oh! cheerfully,” cried the Captain, with a laugh; 
“ Caesar ! pen, ink, and paper, while I write a discharge 
for my trusty attendant, Harvey Birch, pedler, &c. &c.” 

The implements for writing were produced, and the Cap- 
tain, with great gayety, wrote the desired acknowledgment 
40 in language of his own; which the pedler took, and care- 
fully depositing it by the side of the images of his Catholic 


THE SPY 


49 


Majesty, made a sweeping bow to the whole family, and 
departed as he had approached. He was soon seen at a 
distance, stealing into the door of his own humble dwelling. 

The father and sisters of the Captain were too much re- 
joiced in retaining the young man, to express, or even enter- 5 
tain, the apprehensions his situation might reasonably 
excite; but on retiring to their evening repast, a cooler 
reflection induced the Captain to think of changing his 
mind. Unwilling to trust himself out of the protection of 
his father’s domains, the young man despatched Caesar to 10 
desire another interview with Harvey. The black soon 
returned with the unwelcome intelligence that it was now 
too late. Katy had told him that Harvey must be miles 
on his road to the northward, ‘‘ having left home at early 
candle-light with his pack.” Nothing now remained to 15 
the Captain but patience, until the morning should afford 
further opportunity of deciding on the best course for him 
to pursue. 

“This Harvey Birch, with his knowing looks and porten- 
tous warnings, gives me more uneasiness than I am willing 20 
to own,” said Captain Wharton, rousing himself from a fit 
of musing, in which the danger of his situation made no 
small part of his meditations. 

“ How is it that he is able to travel to and fro in these 
difficult times, without molestation ?” enquired Miss Peyton. 25 

“ Why the rebels suffer him to escape so easily, is more 
than I can answer,” returned the other; “but Sir Henry 
would not permit a hair of his head to be injured.” 

“Indeed!” cried Frances, with interest; “is he then 
known to Sir Henry Clinton?” 3° 

“ At least he ought to be.” 

“Do you think, my son,” asked Mr. Wharton, “there is 
no danger of his betraying you?” 

“ Why — no; I reflected on that before I trusted myself 
to his power,” said the Captain, thoughtfully: “he seems 35 
to be faithful in matters of business. The danger to him- 
self, should he return to the city, would prevent such an 
act of villany.” 

“ I think,” said Frances, adopting the manner of her 
brother, “Harvey Birch is not without good feelings; at 40 
least, he has the appearance of them at times,” 

E 


50 


THE SPY 


“ Oh !” cried his sister, exulting, “ he has loyalty, and that 
with me is a cardinal virtue. 

“ I am afraid,” said her brother, laughing, “ love of money 
is a stronger passion than love of his king.” 

5 “Then,” said the father, “you cannot be safe while in 
his power — for no love will withstand the temptation of 
money, when offered to avarice.” 

“Surely, sir,” cried the youth, recovering his gayety, 
“ there must be one love that can resist any thing — is 
I o there not, Fanny?” 

“ Here is your candle, you keep your father up beyond 
his usual hour.” 


CHAPTER V 


Through Solway sands, through Taross moss, 

Blindfold, he knew the paths to cross; 

■By wily turns, by desperate bounds, 

Had baffled Percy’s best blood-hounds. 

In Eske, or Liddel, fords were none, 

But he would ride them, one by one; 

Alike to him was time, or tide, 

December’s snow, or July’s pride; 

Alike to him was tide, or time. 

Moonless midnight, or matin prime, 

Walter Scott. 

All the members of the Wharton family laid their heads 
on their pillows that night, with a foreboding of some in- 
terruption to their ordinary quiet. Uneasiness kept the 
sisters from enjoying their usual repose, and they rose from 
their beds, on the following morning, unrefreshed, and al- 5 
most without having closed their eyes. 

On taking an eager and hasty survey of the valley from 
the windows of their room, nothing, however, but its usual 
serenity was to be seen. It was glittering with the opening 
brilliancy of one of those lovely, mild days, which occur lo 
about the time of the falling of the leaf; and which, by 
their frequency, class the American autumn with the, most 
delightful seasons of other countries. We have no spring; 
vegetation seems to leap into existence, instead of creeping, 
as in the same latitudes of the old world: but how grace- 15 
fully it retires ! September, October, even November 
and December, compose the season for enjoyment in the 
open air; they have their storms, but they are distinct, 
and not of long continuance, leaving a clear atmosphere 
and a cloudless sky. 20 

As nothing could be seen likely to interrupt the enjoy- 
ments and harmony of such a day, the sisters descended to 
the parlour, with a returning confidence in their brother’s 
security, and their own happiness. 

51 


52 


THE SPY 


The family were early in assembling around the breakfast 
table ; and Miss Peyton, with a little of that minute preci- 
sion which creeps into the habits of single life, had pleas- 
antly insisted that the absence of her nephew should in 
5 no manner interfere with the regular hours she had estab- 
lished; consequently, the party were already seated when 
the Captain made his appearance; though the untasted 
coffee sufficiently proved, that by none of his relatives was 
his absence disregarded. • 

lo I think I did much better,” he cried, taking a chair 
between his sisters, and receiving their offered salutes, 
“ to secure a good bed and such a plentiful breakfast, in- 
stead of trusting to the hospitality of that renowned corps, 
the Cow-Boys.” 

IS “If you could sleep,” said Sarah, “you were more for- 
tunate than Frances and myself; every murmur of the 
night air sounded to me like the approach of the rebel 
army.” 

“ Why,” said the Captain, laughing, “ I do acknowledge 
20 a little inquietude myself — but how was it with you?” 
turning to his younger and evidently favourite sister, and 
tapping her cheek; “ did you see banners in the clouds, and 
mistake Miss Peyton’s .®olian harp for rebellious music?” 

“ Nay, Henry,” rejoined the maid, looking at him af- 
25 fectionately, “ much as I love my own country, the approach 
of her troops just now would give me great pain.” 

The brother made no reply; but returning the fondness 
expressed in her eye by a look of fraternal tenderness, he 
gently pressed her hand in silence; when Csesar, who had 
30 participated largely in the anxiety of the family, and who 
had risen with the dawn, and kept a vigilant watch on the 
surrounding objects, as he stood gazing from one of the 
windows, exclaimed with a face that approached to some- 
thing like the hues of a white man — 

35 “ Run — massa Harry — run — if he love old Csesar, 

run — here come a rebel horse.” 

“Run!” repeated the British officer, gathering himself 
up in military pride; “no, Mr. Csesar, running is not my 
trade.” While speaking, he walked deliberately to the 
40 window, where the family were already collected in the 
greatest consternation. 


53 


! 

i THE SPY 

At the distance of more than a mile, about fifty dragoons 
were to be seen, winding down one of the lateral entrances of 
the valley. In advance with an officer, was a man attired 
in the dress of a countryman, who pointed in the direction 
of the cottage. A small party now left the main body, and 5 
moved rapidly towards the object of their destination. 

I On reaching the road which led through the bottom of 
I the valley, they turned their horses’ heads to the north. 

I The Whartons continued chained in breathless silence to 
the _ spot, watching their movements, when the party, 10 
! having reached the dwelling of Birch, made a rapid circle 
around his grounds, and in an instant his house was sur- 
rounded by a dozen sentinels. 

Two or three of the dragoons now dismounted and dis- 
appeared: in a few minutes, however, they returned to the 15 
; yard, followed by Katy, from whose violent gesticulations, 

I it was evident that matters of no trifling concern were on 
the carpet. A short communication with the loquacious 
^ housekeeper followed the arrival of the main body of the 
j troop, and the advanced party remounting, the whole 20 
j moved towards the Locusts with great speed. 

I As yet none of the family had sufficient presence of mind 
to devise any means of security for Captain Wharton; 
but the danger now became too pressing to admit of longer 
I delay, and various means of secreting him were hastily 25 
j proposed ; but they were all haughtily rejected by the young 
|i man, as unworthy of his character. It was too late to re- 

I treat to the woods in the rear of the cottage, for he would 
i unavoidably be seen, and, followed by a troop of horse, 

l| as inevitably taken. 30 

II At length, his sisters, with trembling hands, replaced his 
original disguise, the instruments of which had been care- 

1 ! fully kept at hand by Caesar, in expectation of some sudden 
I emergency. 

I This arrangement was hastily and imperfectly completed, 35 
i as the dragoons entered the lawn and orchard of the Locusts, 
riding with the rapidity of the wind; and in their turn the 
Whartons were surrounded. 

Nothing remained now, but to meet the impending exam- 
I ination with as much indifference as the family could assume. 4 ° 
The leader of the horse dismounted, and, followed by a 


54 


THE SPY 


3 


couple of his men, he approached the outer door of the build- ’ 
ing, which was slowly and reluctantly opened for his ad- ^ 
mission by Csesar. The heavy tread of the trooper, as he i 
followed the black to the door of the parlour, rang in the : 
sears of the females as it approached nearer and nearer, i 
and drove the blood from their faces to their hearts, with j 
a chill that nearly annihilated feeling. i 

A man, whose colossal stature manifested the possession I 
of vast strength, entered the room, and removing his cap, i 
lo he saluted the family with a mildness his appearance did j. 
not indicate as belonging to his nature. His dark hair a 
hung around his brow in profusion, though stained with J 
the powder which was worn at that day, and his face was ■ 
nearly hid in the whiskers by which it was disfigured. 1; 
15 Still, the expression of his eye, though piercing, was not bad, j! 
and his voice, though deep and powerful, was far from un- 
pleasant. Frances ventured to throw a timid glance at his . 
figure as he entered, and saw at once the man, from whose 1 
scrutiny, Harvey Birch had warned them, there was so L 
20 much to be apprehended. j 

“ You have no cause for alarm, ladies,’’ said the officer, ' 
pausing a moment, and contemplating the pale faces around , 
him — ‘‘ my business will be confined to a few questions, t 
which, if freely answered, will instantly remove us from 1 
25 your dwelling.” I 

“ And what may they be, sir?” stammered Mr. Wharton, 
rising from his chair, and waiting anxiously for the reply, j 
“ Has there been a strange gentleman staying with you f 
during the storm?” continued the dragoon, speaking with i 
30 interest, and in some degree sharing in the evident anxiety j j 
of the father. i l 

‘‘ This gentleman — here — favoured us with his com- | ' 
pany during the rain, and has not yet departed.” ! 

“ This gentleman !” repeated the other, turning to Captain ' 1 
35 Wharton, and contemplating his figure for a moment, until j 
the anxiety of his countenance gave place to a lurking smile. : 
He approached the youth with an air of comic gravity, 1 1 
and with a low bow, continued — “lam sorry for the severe | 
cold you have in your head, sir.” { 

40 “I” exclaimed the Captain, in surprise; “ I have no cold 

in my head.” 


THE SPY 


55 


“ I fancied it then, from seeing you had covered such 
handsome black locks with that ugly old wig; it was my 
mistake, you will please to pardon it.’’ 

Mr. Wharton groaned aloud; but the ladies, ignorant of 
the extent of their visitor’s knowledge, remained in trem- 5 
bling yet rigid silence. The Captain himself moved his hand 
involuntarily to his head, and discovered that the trepidation 
of his sisters had left some of his natural hair exposed. The 
dragoon watched the movement with a continued smile, 
when, seeming to recollect himself, turning to the father, 10 
he proceeded — 

'' Then, Sir, I am to understand there has not been a Mr. 
Harper, here, within the week.” 

“ Mr. Harper,” echoed the other, feeling a load removed 
from his heart — “ yes, — I had forgotten; but he is gone; 15 
and if there be any thing wrong in his character, we are in 
entire ignorance of it — to me he was a total stranger.” 

“You have but little to apprehend from his character,” 
answered the dragoon dryly; “but he is gone — how — 
when — and whither ?” 20 

“ He departed as he arrived,” said Mr. Wharton, gathering 
renewed confidence from the manner of the trooper; “on 
horseback, last evening, and he took the northern road.” 

The officer listened to him with intense interest, his coun- 
tenance gradually lighting into a smile of pleasure; and the 25 
instant Mr. Wharton concluded his laconic reply, he turned 
on his heel and left the apartment. The Whartons, judging 
from his manner, thought he was about to proceed in quest 
of the object of his enquiries. They observed the dragoon, 
on gaining the lawn, in earnest, and apparently pleased con- 30 
versation with his two subalterns. In a few moments 
orders were given to some of the troop, and horsemen left 
the valley, at full speed, by its various roads. 

The suspense of the party within, who were all highly 
interested witnesses of this scene, was shortly terminated; 35 
for the heavy tread of the dragoon soon announced his 
second approach. He bowed again politely as he re-entered 
the room, and walking up to Captain Wharton, said, with 
comic gravity — 

“ Now, sir, my principal business being done, may I beg 40 
to examine the quality of that wig?” 


56 


THE SPY 


The British officer imitated the manner of the other, as 
he deliberately uncovered his head, and handing him the 
wig, observed, “ I hope, sir, it is to your liking/’ 

“ I cannot, without violating the truth, say it is,” returned 
5 the dragoon; “I prefer your ebony hair, from which you 
seem to have combed the powder with great industry. 
But that must have been a sad hurt you have received 
under this enormous black patch.” 

'‘You appear so close an observer of things, I should like 
loyour opinion of it, sir,” said Henry, removing the silk, and 
exhibiting the cheek free from blemish. 

“ Upon my word, you improve most rapidly in externals,” 
added the trooper, preserving his muscles in inflexible 
gravity : “ if I could but persuade you to exchange this old 
issurtout for that handsome blue coat by your side, I think 
I never could witness a more agreeable metamorphosis, 
since I was changed myself from a lieutenant to a captain.” 

Young Wharton very composedly did as was required; 
and stood an extremely handsome, well-dressed young man : 
20 The dragoon looked at him for a minute with the drollery 
that characterised his manner, and then continued — 

"This is a new comer in the scene; it is usual, you know, 
for strangers to be introduced; I am Captain Lawton, of 
the Virginia horse.” 

25 " And I, sir, am Captain Wharton, of his Majesty’s 60 th 

regiment of foot,” returned Henry, bowing stiffly, and re- 
covering his natural manner. 

The countenance of Lawton changed instantly, and his 
assumed quaintness vanished. He viewed the figure of 
30 Captain Wharton, as he stood proudly swelling with a pride 
that disdained further concealment, and exclaimed, with 
great earnestness — 

"Captain Wharton, from my soul I pity you !” 

" Oh ! then,” cried the father in agony, " if you pity him, 
35 dear sir, why molest him? he is not a spy; nothing but a 
desire to see his friends prompted him to venture so far from 
the regular army in disguise. Leave him with us; there 
is no reward, no sum, which I will not cheerfully pay.” 

" Sir, your anxiety for your friend excuses your language,” 
40 said Lawton, haughtily; "but you forget I am a Virginian, 
and a gentleman.” Turning to the young man, he con- 


THE SPY 


57 


tinned — “ Were you ignorant, Captain Wharton, that our 
pickets have been below you for several days?” 

“ I did not know it until I reached them, and it was then 
too late to retreat,” said Wharton, sullenly. ‘‘ I came out, 
as my father has mentioned, to see my friends, understand- 5 
ing your parties to be at Peekskill, and near the Highlands, 
or surely I would not have ventured.” 

“All this may be very true; but the affair of Andre has 
made us on the alert. When treason reaches the grade of 
general officers. Captain Wharton, it behoves the friends of 10 
liberty to be vigilant.” 

Henry bowed to this remark in distant silence, but Sarah 
ventured to urge something in -behalf of her brother. The 
dragoon heard her politely, and apparently with commisera- 
tion; but willing to avoid useless and embarrassing peti- 15 
tions, he answered mildly — 

“I am not the commander of the party, madam; Major 
Dunwoodie will decide what must be done with your brother ; 
at all events, he will receive nothing but kind and gentle 
treatment.” 20 

“Dunwoodie!” exclaimed Frances, with a face, in which 
the roses contended for the mastery with the paleness of 
apprehension; “thank God! then Henry is safe!” 

Lawton regarded her with a mingled expression of pity 
and admiration; then shaking his head doubtingly, he 25 
continued — 

“I hope so; and with your permission, we will leave the 
matter for his decision.” 

The colour of Frances changed from the paleness of fear 
to the glow of hope. Her dread on behalf of her brother was 30 
certainly greatly diminished ; yet her form shook, her breath- 
ing became short and irregular, and her whole frame gave 
tokens of extraordinary agitation. Her eyes rose from the 
floor to the dragoon, and were again fixed immovably on 
the carpet — she evidently wished to utter something, but 35 
was unequal to the effort. Miss Peyton was a close observer 
of these movements of her niece, and advancing with an 
air of feminine dignity, enquired — 

“Then, sir, we may expect the pleasure of Major Dun- 
woodie’s company shortly?” 4 ° 

“Immediately, madam,” answered the dragoon, with- 


58 


THE SPY 


drawing his admiring gaze from the person of Frances; 

expresses are already on the road to announce to him our 
situation, and the intelligence will speedily bring him to this 
valley; unless, indeed, some private reasons may exist 
5 to make a visit particularly unpleasant.” 

'‘We shall always be happy to see Major Dunwoodie.” 

“Oh! doubtless; he is a general favourite. May I pre- 
sume on it so far as to ask leave to dismount and refresh 
my men, who compose a part of his squadron?” 
lo There was a manner about the trooper, that would have 
made the omission of such a request easily forgiven by Mr. 
Wharton, but he was fairly entrapped by his own eagerness 
to conciliate, and it was useless to withhold a consent which 
he thought would probably be extorted; he, therefore, 

1 5 made the most of necessity, and gave such orders as would 
facilitate the wishes of Captain Lawton. 

The officers were invited to take their morning’s repast 
at the family breakfast table, and having made their ar- 
rangements without, the invitation was frankly accepted. 
20 None of the watchfulness, which was so necessary to their 
situation, was neglected by the wary partisan. Patrols 
were seen on the distant hills, taking their protecting circuit 
around their comrades, who were enjoying, in the midst 
of dangers, a security that can only spring from the watch- 
25 fulness of discipline, and .the indifference of habit. 

The addition to the party at Mr. Wharton’s table was only 
three, and they were all of them men who, under the rough 
exterior induced by actual and arduous service, concealed 
the manners of gentlemen. Consequently, the interruption ‘ 
30 to the domestic privacy of the family was marked by the 
observance of strict decorum. The ladies left the table to 
their guests, who proceeded, without much superfluous 
diffidence, to do proper honours to the hospitality of Mr. 
Wharton. 

35 At length. Captain Lawton suspended for a moment his 
violent attacks on the buckwheat cakes, to enquire of the 
master of the house, if there was not a pedler of the name 
of Birch who lived in the valley at times. 

“At times only, I believe, sir,” replied Mr. Wharton, 
40 cautiously ; “ he is seldom here ; I may say I never see him.” 

“That is strange, too,” said the trooper, looking at the 


THE SPY 


59 


disconcerted host intently, “considering he is your next 
neighbour : he must be quite domestic, sir ; and to the ladies 
it must be somewhat inconvenient. I doubt not that that 
muslin in the window-seat cost twice as much as he would 
have asked them for it.” 5 

Mr. Wharton turned in consternation, and saw some of 
the recent purchases scattered about the room. 

The two subalterns struggled to conceal their smiles; but 
the Captain resumed his breakfast with an eagerness that 
created a doubt, whether he ever expected to enjoy another. 10 
The necessity of a supply from the dominion of Dinah soon, 
however, afforded another respite, of which Lawton availed 
himself. 

“ I had a wish to break this Mr. Birch of his unsocial 
habits, and gave him a call this morning,” he said: “had 15 
I found him within, I should have placed him where he 
would enjoy life in the midst of society, for a short time at 
least.” 

“And where might that be, sir?” asked Mr. Wharton, 
conceiving it necessary to say something. 20 

“ The guard-room,” said the trooper, dryly. 

“ What is the offence of poor Birch? ” asked Miss Peyton, 
handing the dragoon a fourth dish of coffee. 

“Poor!” cried the Captain; “if he is poor. King George ‘ 
is a bad paymaster.” 25 

“Yes, indeed,” said one of the subalterns, “his Majesty 
owes him a dukedom.” 

“And congress a halter,” continued the commanding 
officer, commencing anew on a fresh supply of the cakes. 

“ I am sorry,” said Mr. Wharton, “ that any neighbour of 30 
mine should incur the displeasure of our rulers.” 

“ If I catch him,” cried the dragoon, while buttering an- 
other cake, “ he will dangle from the limbs of one of his 
namesakes.” 

“ He would make no bad ornament, suspended from one 35 
of those locusts before his own door,” added the Lieutenant. 

“ Never mind,” continued the Captain; “ I will have him 
yet before Pm a major.” 

As the language of these officers appeared to be sincere, 
and such as disappointed men in their rough occupations are 40 
but too apt to use, the Whartons thought it prudent to dis- 


60 


THE SPY 


continue the subject. It was no new intelligence to any 
of the family, that Harvey Birch was distrusted, and 
greatly harassed, by the American army. His escapes 
from their hands, no less than his imprisonments, had been 
5 the conversation of the country in too many instances, and 
under circumstances of too great mystery, to be easily for- 
gotten. In fact, no small part of the bitterness, expressed 
by Captain Lawton against the pedler, arose from the un- 
accountable disappearance of the latter, when intrusted to 
lo the custody of two of his most faithful dragoons. 

A twelvemonth had not yet elapsed, since Birch had been 
seen lingering near the head-quarters of the commander- 
in-chief, and at a time when important movements were 
expected hourly to occur. So soon as the information of 
15 this fact was communicated to the officer, whose duty it 
was to guard the avenues of the American camp, he de- 
spatched Captain Lawton in pursuit of the pedler. 

Acquainted with all the passes of the hills, and indefati- 
gable in the discharge of his duty, the trooper had, with 
20 much trouble and toil, succeeded in effecting his object. The 
party had halted at a farm-house fot the purposes of refresh- 
ment, and the prisoner was placed in a room by himself, 
but under the keeping of the two men before mentioned; 
all that was known subsequently is, that a woman was seen 
25 busily engaged in the employments of the household near 
the sentinels, and was particularly attentive to the wants 
of the captain, until he was deeply engaged in the employ- 
ments of the supper-table. 

Afterwards, neither woman nor pedler was to be found. 
30 The pack, indeed, was discovered open, and nearly empty, 
and a small door, communicating with a room adjoining to 
the one in which the pedler had been secured, was ajar. 

Captain Lawton never could forgive the deception; his 
antipathies to his enemies were not very moderate, but this 
35 was adding an insult to his penetration that rankled deeply. 
He sat in portentous silence, brooding over the exploit of 
his prisoner, yet mechanically pursuing the business before 
him, until, after sufficient time had passed to make a very 
comfortable meal, a trumpet suddenly broke on the ears 
40 of the party, sending its martial tones up the valley, in 
startling melody. The trooper rose instantly from the 
table, exclaiming — 


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61 


“Quick, gentlemen, to your horses; there comes Dun- 
woodie;’’ and, followed by his officers, he precipitately left 
the room. 

With the exception of the sentinels left to guard Captain 
Wharton, the dragoons mounted, and marched out to meet 5 
their comrades. 

None of the watchfulness necessary in a whr, in which 
similarity of language, appearance, and customs, rendered 
prudence doubly necessary, was omitted by the cautious 
leader. On getting sufficiently near, however, to a body 10 
of horse of more than double his own number, to distinguish 
countenances, Lawton plunged his rowels into his charger, 
and in a moment he was by the side of his commander. 

The ground in front of the cottage was again occupied by 
the horse; and, observing the same precautions as before, 15 
the newly arrived troops hastened to participate in the 
cheer prepared for their comrades. 


h • 


V 


CHAPTER VI 


and let conquerors boast 

Their fields of fame — he who in virtue arms 
A young warm spirit against beauty’s charms, 

Who feels her brightness, yet defies her thrall. 

Is the best, bravest conqueror of them all, 

Moore, 

The ladies of the Wharton family had collected about a 
window, deeply interested in the scene we have related, 

Sarah viewed the approach of her countrymen with a 
smile of contemptuous indifference; for she even under- 
5 valued the personal appearance of men, whom she thought 
arrayed in the unholy cause of rebellion. Miss Peyton 
looked on the gallant show with an exulting pride, which 
arose in the reflection, that the warriors before her were 
the chosen troops of her native colony ; while Frances gazed 
lo with a singleness of interest that absorbed all other con- 
siderations. 

The two parties had not yet joined, before her quick eye 
distinguished one horseman in particular from those around 
him. To her it appeared that even the steed of this youth- 
isful soldier seemed to be conscious that he sustained the 
weight of no common man : — ■ his hoofs but lightly touched 
the earth, and his airy tread was the curbed motion of a 
blooded charger. 

The dragoon sat in the saddle, with a firmness and ease 
20 that showed him master of himself and horse, — his figure 
uniting the just proportions of strength and activity, being 
tall, round, and muscular. To this officer' Lawton made his 
report, and, side by side, they rode into the field opposite 
to the cottage. 

25 The heart of Frances beat with a pulsation nearly stifling, 
as he paused for a moment, and took a survey of the build- 
ing, with an eye whose dark and sparkling glance could be 
seen, notwithstanding the distance : — her colour changed, 

62 


THE SPY 


63 


and for an instant, as she saw the youth throw himself 
from the saddle, she was compelled to seek relief for her 
trembling limbs in a chair. 

The officer gave a few hasty orders to his second in com- 
mand, walked rapidly into the lawn, and approached the 5 
cottage. Frances rose from her seat, and vanished from 
the apartment. The dragoon ascended the steps of the 
piazza, and had barely time to touch the outer door, when 
it opened to his admission. 

The youth of Frances, when she left the city, had pre- 10 
vented her sacrificing, in conformity to the customs of that 
day, all her native beauties on the altar of fashion. Her 
hair, which was of a golden richness of colour, was left, 
untortured, to fall in the natural ringlets of infancy, and it 
shaded a face which was glowing with the united charms 15 
of health, youth, and artlessness ; — her eyes spoke volumes, 
but her tongue was silent; — her hands were interlocked 
before her, and, aided by her taper form, bending forward 
in an attitude of expectation, gave a loveliness and an in- 
terest to her appearance, that for a moment chained her 20 
lover in silence to the spot. 

Frances silently led the way into a vacant parlour, op- 
posite to the one in which the family were assembled, and 
turning to the soldier frankly, placing both her hands in 
his own, exclaimed — 25 

“ Ah, Dunwoodie ! how happy, on many accounts, I am 
to see you ! I have brought you in here, to prepare you to 
meet an unexpected friend in the opposite room.’’ 

“To whatever cause it may be owing,” cried the youth, 
pressing her hands to his lips, “ I, too, am happy in being 30 
able to see you alone. Frances, the probation you have 
decreed is cruel; war and distance may shortly separate 
us for ever.” 

“We must submit to the necessity which governs us. 
But it is not love speeches I would hear now: I have other 35 
and more important matter for your attention.” 

“ What can be of more importance than to make you 
mine by a tie that will be indissoluble ! Frances, you are 
cold to me — me — from whose mind, days of service and 
nights of alarm have never been able to banish your image 40 
for a single moment.” 


64 


THE SPY 


“Dear Dunwoodie/’ said Frances, softening nearly to 
tears, and again extending her hand to him, as the richness 
of her colour gradually returned, “you know my sentiments 

— this war once ended, and you may take that hand for 
5 ever — but I can never consent to tie myself to you by any 

closer union than already exists, so long as you are arrayed 
in arms against my only brother. Even now, that brother 
is awaiting your decision to restore him to liberty, or to 
conduct him to a probable death.” 
lo “Your brother!” cried Dunwoodie, starting and turning 
pale; “your brother! explain yourself — what dreadful 
meaning is concealed in your words?” 

“ Has not Captain Lawton told you of the arrest of Henry 
by himself this very morning ?” continued Frances, in a voice 
15 barely audible, and fixing on her lover a look of the deepest 
concern. 

“ He told me of arresting a captain of the 60 th in disguise, 
but without mentioning where or whom,” replied the Major 
in a similar tone ; and dropping his head between his hands, 
20 he endeavoured to conceal his feelings from his companion. 

“Dunwoodie! Dunwoodie!” exclaimed Frances, losing 
all her former confidence in the most fearful apprehensions, 
“what means this agitation?” As the Major slowly raised 
his face, in which was pictured the most expressive concern, 
25 she continued, “ Surely, surely, you will not betray your 
friend — my brother — your brother — to an ignominious 
death.” 

“Frances!” exclaimed the young man in agony, “what 
can I do?” 

3 ° “Do!” she repeated, gazing at him wildly; “would 

Major Dunwoodie yield his friend to his enemies — the 
brother of his betrothed wife?” 

“ Oh speak not so unkindly to me, dearest Miss Wharton 

— my own Frances. I would this moment die for you — 
35 for Henry — but I cannot forget my duty — cannot forfeit 

my honour; you yourself would be the first to despise me 
if I did.” 

“Peyton Dunwoodie!” said Frances, solemnly, and with 
a face of ashy paleness, “you have told me — you have 
40 sworn, that you loved me — ” 

“I do,” interrupted the soldier, with fervour; — but 


THE SPY 


65 


motioning for silence, she continued, in a voice that trembled 
with her fears — 

“ Do you think I can throw myself into the arms of a man, 
whose hands are stained with the blood of my only brother ?” 

“Frances! you wring my very heart;'’ then pausing, to 5 
struggle with his feelings, he endeavoured to force a smile, 
as he added, “ but, after all, we may be torturing ourselves 
with unnecessary fears, and Henry, when I know the cir- 
cumstances, may be nothing more than a prisoner of war; 
in which case, I can liberate him on parole.” 10 

There is no more delusive passion than hope; and it 
seems to be the happy privilege of youth to cull all the pleas- 
ures that can be gathered from its indulgence. It is when 
w’e are most worthy of confidence ourselves, that we are 
least apt to distrust others; and what we think ought to 15 
be, we are prone to think will be. 

The half-formed expectations of the young soldier were 
communicated to the desponding sister, more by the eye 
than the voice, and the blood rushed again to her cheek, 
as she cried — 20 

“ Oh ! there can be no just grounds to doubt it: I knew 
— I knew — Dunwoodie, you would never desert us in the 
hour of our greatest need!” The violence of her feelings 
prevailed, and the agitated girl found relief in a flood of 
tears. 25 

The office of consoling those we love is one of the dearest 
prerogatives of affection; and Major Dunwoodie, although 
but little encouraged by his own momentary suggestion of 
relief, could not undeceive the lovely girl, who leaned on 
his shoulder, as he wiped the traces of her feeling from her 3° 
face, with a trembling, but reviving confidence, in the safety 
.1 brother, and the protection of her lover. 

- rj rices having sufficiently recovered her recollection to 
< ’ and herself, now eagerly led the way into the opposite 
r(j-. , to communicate to her family the pleasing intelligence 35 
whi . she already conceived so certain. 

. woodie followed her reluctantly, and with forebodings 
of tne result; but, a few moments brought him into the 
preri>; ce of his relatives, and he summoned all his resolution 
to mr !t the trial with firmness. 40 

Tl. salutations of the young men were cordial and frank. 


F 


66 


THE SPY 


and, on the part of Henry Wharton, as collected as if nothing 
had occurred to disturb his self-possession. 

The abhorrence of being, in any manner, auxiliary to the 
arrest of his friend; the danger to the life of Captain Whar- 
5 ton; and the heart-breaking declarations of Frances, had, 
however, created an uneasiness in the bosom of Major 
Dunwoodie, which all his efforts could not conceal. His 
reception by the rest of the family was kind and sincere, 
both from old regard, and a remembrance of former obli- 
lo gations, heightened by the anticipations they could not fail 
to read in the expressive eyes of the blushing girl by his 
side. After exchanging greetings with every member of 
the family. Major Dunwoodie beckoned to the sentinel, 
whom the wary prudence of Captain Lawton had left in 
IS charge of the prisoner, to leave the room. Turning to 
Captain Wharton, he enquired mildly — 

“ Tell me, Henry, the circumstances of this disguise, in 
which Captain Lawton reports you to have been found, 
and remember — remember — Captain Wharton — your 
20 answers are entirely voluntary.” 

“The disguise was used by me. Major Dunwoodie,” 
replied the English officer, gravely, “to enable me to visit 
my friends, without incurring the danger of becoming a 
prisoner of war.” 

25 “ But you did not wear it, until you saw the troop of 

Lawton approaching?” 

“Oh! no,” interrupted Frances, eagerly, forgetting all 
the circumstances in her anxiety for her brother; “Sarah 
and myself placed them on him when the dragoons appeared; 
30 it was our awkwardness that led to the discovery.” 

The countenance of Dunwoodie brightened, as, turning his 
eyes in fondness on the speaker, he listened to her ex- 
planation. 

“Probably some articles of your own,” he continued, 
35 “ which were at hand, and were used on the spur of the 
moment.” 

“No,” said Wharton, with dignity; “the clothes were 
worn by me from the city ; they were procured for the pur- 
pose to which they were applied, and I intended to use them 
40 in my return this very day.” 

The appalled Frances shrunk back from between her 


THE SPY 


67 


brother and 'lover, where her ardent feelings had carried 
her, as the whole truth glanced over her mind, and she 
sunk into a seat, gazing wildly on the young men. 

“But the pickets — the party at the Plains?’’ added 
Dunwoodie, turning pale. 5 

“ I passed them, too, in disguise. I made use of this pass, 
for which I paid; and, as it bears the name of Washington, 

I presume it is forged.” 

Dunwoodie caught the paper from his hand, eagerly, and 
stood gazing on the signature for some time in silence, during 10 
which the soldier gradually prevailed over the man ; when 
he turned to the prisoner, with a searching look, as he 
asked — 

“ Captain Wharton, whence did you procure this paper?” 

“That is a question, I conceive. Major Dunwoodie has 15 
no right to ask.” 

“Your pardon, sir; my feelings may have led me into 
an impropriety.” 

Mr. Wharton, who had been a deeply interested auditor, 
now so far conquered his feelings as to say, “ Surely, Major 20 
Dunwoodie, the paper cannot be material; such artifices 
are used daily in war.” 

“This name is no counterfeit,” said the dragoon, studying 
the characters, and speaking in a low voice : “ is treason yet 
among us undiscovered ? The confidence of Washington 25 
has been abused, for the fictitious name is in a different 
hand from the pass. Captain Wharton, my duty will not 
suffer me to grant you a parole : you must accompany me 
to the Highlands.” 

“ I did not expect otherwise. Major Dunwoodie.” 3° 

Dunwoodie turned slowly towards the sisters, when the 
figure of Frances once more arrested his gaze. She had 
risen from her seat, and stood again with her hands clasped 
before him in an attitude of petition : feeling himself unable 
to contend longer with his feelings, he made a hurried excuse 35 
for a temporary absence, and left the room. Frances fol- 
lowed him, and, obedient to the direction of her eye, the 
soldier re-entered the apartment in which had been their 
first interview. 

“Major Dunwoodie,” said Frances, in a voice barely 40 
audible, as she beckoned to him to be seated; her cheek. 


68 


THE SPY 


which had been of a chilling whiteness, was ^shed with a 
suffusion that crimsoned her whole countenance; she 
struggled with herself for a moment, and continued — “ I 
have already acknowledged to you my esteem; even now, 

5 when you most painfully distress me, I wish not to conceal 
it. Believe me, Henry is innocent of everything but im- 
prudence. Our country can sustain no wrong.” Again 
she paused, and almost gasped for breath; her colour 
changed rapidly from red to white, until the blood rushed 
lo into her face, covering her features with the brightest 
vermilion; and she added hastily, in an under-tone, '‘I 
have promised, Dunwoodie, when peace shall be restored 
to our country, to become your wife; give to my brother 
his liberty on parole, and I will this day go with you to the 
15 altar, follow you to the camp, and, in becoming a soldier’s 
bride, learn to endure a soldier’s privations.” 

Dunwoodie seized the hand which the blushing girl, in 
her ardour, had extended towards him, and pressed it for a || 
moment to his bosom ; then rising from his seat, he paced the 
20 room in excessive agitation. 

“ Frances, say no more, I conjure you, unless you wish 
to break my heart.” 

“ You then reject my offered hand ?” she said, rising with 
dignity, though her pale cheek and quivering lip plainly 
25 showed the conflicting passions within. 

“ Reject it ! Have I not sought it with entreaties — with 
tears ? Has it not been the goal of all my earthly wishes ? 
But to take it under such conditions would be to dishonour 
both. We will hope for better things. Henry must be 
30 acquitted; perhaps not tried. No intercession of mine 
shall be wanting, you must well know; and believe me, 
Frances, I am not without favour with Washington.” 

“ That very paper, that abuse of his confidence, to which 
you alluded, will steel him to my brother’s case. If threats 
35 or entreaties could move his stern sense of justice, wmuld 
Andr6 have suffered?” As Frances uttered these words, 
she fled from the room in despair. 

Dunwoodie remained for a minute nearly stupefied ; and 
then he followed with a view to vindicate himself, and to 
40 relieve her apprehensions. On entering the hall that di- 
vided the two parlours, he was met by a small ragged boy, 


THE SPY 


69 


who looked one moment at his dress, and placing a piece 
of paper in his hands, immediately vanished through the 
outer door of the building. The bewildered state of his 
mind, and the suddenness of the occurrence, gave the Major 
barely time to observe the messenger to be a country lad, 5 
meanly attired, and that he held in his hand one of those 
toys which are to be bought in cities, and which he now 
apparently contemplated with the conscious pleasure of 
having fairly purchased, by the performance of the service 
required. The soldier turned his eyes to the subject of 10 
i the note. It was .written on a piece of torn and soiled paper, 
and in a hand barely legible; but, after some little labour, 
he was able to make out as follows : — 

“ The rig’lars are at hand, horse and foot.”° 

Dunwoodie started; and, forgetting every thing but the 15 
duties of a soldier, he precipitately left the house. While 
walking rapidly towards the troops, he noticed on a distant 
hill a vidette riding with speed: several pistols were fired 
in quick succession; and the next instant the trumpets of 
the corps rang in his ears with the enlivening strain of “To 20 
arms !” By the time he had reached the ground occupied 
by his squadron, the Major saw that every man was in active 
motion. Lawton was already in the saddle, eyeing the 
opposite extremity of the valley with the eagerness of ex- 
pectation, and crying to the musicians, in tones but little 25 
lower than their own — • 

“ Sound away, my lads, and let these Englishmen know, 
that the Virginia horse are between them and the end of 
their journey.” 

The videttes and patrols now came pouring in, each mak- 30 
ing in succession his hasty report to the commanding officer, 
who gave his orders coolly, and with a promptitude that 
made obedience certain. Once only, as he wheeled his horse 
to ride oyer* the ground in front, did Dunwoodie trust him- 
self with ’a look at the cottage, and his heart beat with 35 
unusual rapidity as he saw a female figure standing, with 
clasped hands, at a window of the room in which he had met 
Frances. The distance was too great to distinguish her 
features, but the soldier could not doubt that it was his 
mistress. The paleness of his cheek and the languor of 4° 


70 


THE SPY 


his eye endured but for a moment longer. As he rode to- 
wards the intended battle-ground, a flush of ardour began 
to show itself on his sun-burnt features; and his dragoons, 
who studied the face of their leader, as the best index to 
5 their own fate, saw again the wonted flashing of the eyes, 
and the cheerful animation, which they had so often wit- 
nessed on the eve of battle. By the additions of the videttes 
and parties that had been out, and which now had all 
joined, the whole number of the horse was increased to 
lo nearly two hundred. There was also a small body of men, 
whose ordinary duties were those of guides, but who, in 
cases of emergency, were embodied and did duty as foot- 
soldiers; these were dismounted, and proceeded, by the 
order of Dunwoodie, to level the few fences which might 
15 interfere with the intended movements of the cavalry. The 
neglect of husbandry, which had been occasioned by the 
war, left this task comparatively easy. Those long lines 
of heavy and durable walls, which now sweep through every 
part of the country, forty years ago were unknown. The 
20 slight and tottering fences of stone were then used more 
to clear the land for the purposes of cultivation than as per- 
manent barriers, and required the constant attention of the 1 
husbandmen, to preserve them against the fury of the tem- 
pests and the frosts of winter. Some few of them had been I 
25 built with more care immediately around the dwelling of ' 
Mr. Wharton; but those which had intersected the vale 
below were now generally a pile of ruins, over which the 
horses of the Virginians would bound with the fleetness of the : 
wind. Occasionally a short line yet preserved its erect 
30 appearance ; but as none of these crossed the ground on ^ 
which Dunwoodie intended to act, there remained only the : 
slighter fences of rails to be thrown down. Their duty was 
hastily, but effectually, performed; and the guides with- 
drew to the post assigned to them for the approaching fight. ; 
35 Major Dunwoodie had received from his scouts all the I 
intelligence concerning his foe, which was necessary to enable 1 
him to make his arrangements. The bottom of the valley ; 
was an even plain, that fell with a slight inclination from 1 
the foot of the hills on either side, to the level of a natural 1 
40 meadow that wound through the country on the banks ; 
of a small stream, by whose waters it was often inundated 


THE SPY 


71 


and fertilised. This brook was easily forded in any part of 
its course ; and the only impediment it offered to the move- 
ments of the horse, was in a place where it changed its bed 
from the western to the eastern side of the valley, and where 
its banks were more steep and difficult of access than com- 5 
mon. Here the highway crossed it by a rough wooden 
bridge, as it did again at the distance of half a mile above 
the Locusts. 

The hills on the eastern side of the valley were abrupt, 
and frequently obtruded therhselves in rocky prominences 10 
into its bosom, lessening the width to half the usual dimen- 
sions. One of these projections was but a short distance in 
the rear of the squadron of dragoons, and Dunwoodie di- 
rected Captain Lawton to withdraw, with two troops, behind 
its cover. The officer obeyed with a kind of surly reluc- 15 
tance, that was, however, somewhat lessened by the antici- 
pations of the effect his sudden appearance would make 
on the enemy. Dunwoodie knew his man, and had selected 
the captain for this service, both because he feared his 
precipitation in the field, and knew, when needed, his sup- 20 
port would never fail to appear. It was only in front of the 
enemy that Captain Lawton was hasty; at all other times 
his discernment and self-possession were consummately 
preserved; but he sometimes forgot them in his eagerness 
to engage. On the left of the ground on which Dunwoodie 25 
intended to meet his foe, was a close wood, which skirted 
that side of the valley for the distance of a mile. Into this, 
then, the guides retired, and took their station near its edge, 
in such a manner as would enable them to maintain a scat- 
tering, but effectual fire, on the advancing column of the 3° 
enemy. 

It cannot be supposed that all these preparations were 
made unheeded by the inmates of the cottage; on the con- 
trary, every feeling which can agitate the human breast, 
in witnessing such a scene, was actively alive. Mr. Wharton 35 
alone saw no hopes to himself in the termination of the con- 
flict. If the British should prevail, his son would be lib- 
erated ; but what would then be his own fate ! He had 
hitherto preserved his neutral character in the midst of 
trying circumstances. The fact of his having a son in the 40 
royal, or, as it was called, the regular army, had very nearly 


72 


THE SPY 


brought his estates to the hammer. Nothing had obviated 
this result, but the powerful interest of the relation, who 
held a high political rank in the state, and his own vigilant 
prudence. In his heart, he was a devoted loyalist; and 
5 when the blushing Frances had communicated to him the 
wishes of her lover, on their return from the American camp 
the preceding spring, the consent he had given, to her future 
union with a rebel, was as much extracted by the increasing 
necessity which existed for his obtaining republican support, 
lo as by any considerations for the happiness of his child. 
Should his son now be rescued, he would, in the public 
mind, be united with him as a plotter against the freedom 
of the States ; and should he remain a captive, and undergo 
the impending trial, the consequences might be still more 
15 dreadful. Much as he loved his wealth, Mr. Wharton loved 
his children better; and he sat gazing on the movements 
without, with a listless vacancy in his countenance, that 
fully denoted his imbecility of character. 

Far different were the feelings of the son. Captain 
20 Wharton had been left in the keeping of two dragoons; 
one of whom marched to and fro on the piazza with a meas- 
ured tread, and the other had been directed to continue in 
the same apartment with his prisoner. The young man had 
witnessed all the movements of Dunwoodie with admira- 1 
25 tion mingled with fearful anticipations of the consequences 
to his friends. He particularly disliked the ambush of the i 
detachment under Lawton, who could be distinctly seen j 
from the windows of the cottage, cooling his impatience, ' 
by pacing on foot the ground in front of his men. Henry , 
30 Wharton threw several hasty and enquiring glances around, 
to see if no means of liberation would offer, but invariably i 
found the eyes of his sentinel fixed on him with the watch- 1 
fulness of an Argus. ° He longed, with the ardour of youth, ’ 
to join in the glorious fray, but was compelled to remain a | 
35 dissatisfied spectator of a scene in which he would so cheer- [ 
fully have been an actor. Miss Peyton and Sarah continued | 
gazing on the preparations with varied emotions, in which j 
concern for the fate of the Captain formed the most promi- f 
nent feeling, until the moment the shedding of blood seemed I 
40 approaching, when, with the timidity of their sex, they 
sought the retirement of an inner room. Not so Frances; : 


THE SPY 


73 


she returned to the apartment where she had left Dunwoodie, 
and, from one of its windows, had been a deeply interested 
spectator of all his movements. The wheelings of the 
troops, the deadly preparations, had all been unnoticed; 
she saw her lover only, and with mingled emotions of ad- 5 
miration and dread that nearly chilled her. At one moment 
the blood rushed to her heart, as she saw the young warrior 
riding through his ranks, giving life and courage to all whom 
he addressed; and the next, it curdled with the thought, 
that the very gallantry she so much valued might prove 10 
the means of placing the grave between her and the object 
of her regard. Frances gazed until she could look no longer. 

In a field on the left of the cottage, and at a short distance 
in the rear of the troops, was a small group, whose occupa- 
tion seemed to differ from that of all around them. They 15 
were in number only three, being two men and a mulatto 
boy. The principal personage of this party was a man, 
whose leanness made his really tall stature appear exces- 
sive. He wore spectacles — was unarmed, had dismounted, 
and seemed to be dividing his attention between a segar, a 20 
book, and the incidents of the field before him. To this 
party Frances determined to send a note, directed to Dun- 
woodie. She wrote hastily, with a pencil, ‘‘Come to me, 
Peyton, if it he hut for a moment;” and Csesar emerged from 
the cellar kitchen, taking the precaution to go by the rear 25 
of the building, to avoid the sentinel on the piazza, who 
had very cavalierly ordered all the family to remain housed. 
The black delivered the note to the gentleman, with a re- 
quest that it might be forwarded to Major Dunwoodie. 

It was the surgeon of the horse to whom CiEsar addressed 3° 
himself ; and the teeth of the African chattered, as he saw 
displayed upon the ground the several instruments which 
were in preparation for the anticipated operations. The 
doctor himself seemed to view the arrangement with great 
satisfaction, as he deliberately raised his eyes from his 35 
book to order the boy to convey the note to his commanding 
officer, and then dropping them quietly on the page, he 
continued his occupation. Csesar was slowly retiring, as 
the third personage, who by his dress might be an inferior 
assistant of the surgical department, coolly enquired “if 40 
he would have a leg taken off?” This question seemed to 


74 


THE SPY 


remind the black of the existence of those limbs; for he 
made such use of them as to reach the piazza at the same 
instant that Major Dunwoodie rode up, at half speed. The 
brawny sentinel squared himself, and poised his sword with 
5 military precision, as he stood on his post, while his officer 
passed; but no sooner had the door closed, than, turning 
to the negro, he said, sharply — 

Harkee, blackey, if you quit the house again without my 
knowledge, I shall turn barber, and shave off one of those 
lo ebony ears with this razor.” 

Thus assailed in another member, Caesar hastily retreated 
into his kitchen, muttering something, in which the words 
“Skinner, and rebel rascal,” formed a principal part of his 
speech. 

15 “Major Dunwoodie,” said Frances to her lover as he 
entered, “ I may have done you injustice; if I have appeared 
harsh — ” 

The emotions of the agitated girl prevailed, and she burst 
into tears. 

20 “Frances,” cried the soldier with warmth, “you are never 
harsh, never unjust, but when you doubt my love.” 

“Ah! Dunwoodie,” added the sobbing girl, “you are 
about to risk your life in battle ; remember that there is one 
heart whose happiness is built on your safety; brave I 
25 know you are; be prudent — ” 

“For your sake?” enquired the delighted youth. 

“For my sake,” replied Frances, in a voice barely audible, 
and dropping on his bosom. 

Dunwoodie folded her to his heart, and was about to speak, 
30 as a trumpet sounded in the southern end of the vale. 
Imprinting one long kiss of affection on her unresisting lips, 
the soldier tore himself from his mistress, and hastened to 
the scene of strife. 

Frances threw herself on a sofa, buried her head under 
35 its cushion, and with her shawl drawn over her face, to 
exclude as much of sound as possible, continued there until 
the shouts of the combatants, the rattling of the fire-arms, 
and the thundering tread of the horses, had ceased. 


CHAPTER VII 


• The game’s afoot; 

Follow your spirit. 


Shakspeare. 


The rough and unimproved face of the country, the fre- 
quency of covers, together with the great distance from their 
own country, and the facilities afforded them for rapid 
movements to the different points of the war, by the un- 
disputed command of the ocean, had united to deter the 5 
English from employing a heavy force in cavalry, in their 
early efforts to subdue the revolted colonies. 

Only one regiment of regular horse was sent from the 
mother country, during the struggle. But legions and 
independent corps were formed in different places, as it 10 
best accorded with the views of the royal commanders, 
or suited the exigency of the times. These were not un- 
frequently composed of men raised in the colonies, and 
at other times drafts were had from the regiments of the 
line, and the soldier was made to lay aside the musket and 15 
bayonet, and taught to wield the sabre and carabine. 
One particular body of the subsidiary troops was included 
in this arrangement, and the Hessian yagers were trans- 
formed into a corps of heavy and inactive horse. 

Opposed to them were the hardiest spirits of America. 20 
Most of the cavalry regiments of the continental army were 
led and officered by gentlemen from the south. The high 
and haughty courage of the commanders had communicated 
itself to the privates, who were men selected with care and 
great attention to the service they were intended to perform. 25 
While the British were confined to their empty conquests 
in the possession of a few of the larger towns, or marched 
through counties that were swept of every thing like mili- 
tary supplies, the light troops of their enemies had the 
range of the whole interior. 3° 

The sufferings of the line of the American army were great 

75 


76 


THE SPY 


beyond example; but possessing the power, and feeling 
themselves engaged in a cause which justified severity, 
the cavalry officers were vigilant in providing for their 
wants, and the horse were well mounted, well fed, and con- 
5 sequently eminently effective. Perhaps the world could 
not furnish more brave, enterprising, and resistless corps 
of light cavalry, than a few that were in the continental 
service at the time of which we write. 

Dunwoodie’s men had often tried their prowess against the 
lo enemy, and they now sat panting to be led once more against 
foes whom they seldom charged in vain. Their wishes were 
soon to be gratified; for their commander had scarcely 
time to regain his seat in the saddle, before a body of the 
enemy came sweeping round the base of the hill, which 
1 5 intersected the view to the south. A few minutes enabled 
the Major to distinguish their character. In one troop he 
saw the green coats of the Cow-Boys, and in the other the 
leathern helmets and wooden saddles of the yagers. Their 
numbers were about equal to the body under his immediate 
20 orders. 

On reaching the open space near the cottage of Harvey 
Birch, the enemy halted and drew up his men in line, evi- 
dently making preparations for a charge. At this moment 
a column of foot appeared in the vale, and pressed forward 
25 to the bank of the brook we have already mentioned. 

Major Dunwoodie was not less distinguished by coolness 
and judgment, than, where occasion offered, by his daunt- 
less intrepidity. He at once saw his advantage, and de- 
termined to profit by it. The column he led began slowly 
30 to retire from the field, when the youthful German, who 
commanded the enemy’s horse, fearful of missing an easy 
conquest, gave the word to charge. Few troops were more 
hardy than the Cow-Boys; they sprang eagerly forward in 
the pursuit, with a confidence created by the retiring foe 
35 and the column in their rear; the Hessians followed more 
slowly, but in better order. The trumpets of the Virginians 
now sounded long and lively ; they were answered by a strain 
from the party in ambush that went to the hearts of their 
enemies. The column of Dunwoodie wheeled in perfect 
40 order, opened, and, as the word to charge was given, the 
troops of Lawton emerged from their cover, with their leader 


THE SPY 


77 


in advance, waving his sabre over his head, and shouting, 
in a voice that was heard above the clangour of the martial 
music. 

The charge threatened too much for the refugee troop. 
They scattered in every direction, flying from the field as s 
fast as their horses, the chosen beasts of West-Chester, 
could carry them. Only a few were hurt : but such as did 
meet the arms of their avenging countrymen never survived 
the blow, to tell who struck it. It was upon the poor 
vassals of the German tyrant that the shock fell. Dis- lo 
ciplined to the most exact obedience, these ill-fated men 
met the charge bravely, but they were swept before the 
mettled horses and nervous arms of their antagonists like 
chaff before the wind. Many of them were literally ridden 
down, and Dunwoodie soon saw the field without an oppos- 15 
ing foe. The proximity of the infantry prevented pursuit, 
and behind its column the few Hessians who escaped unhurt 
sought protection. 

The more cunning refugees dispersed in small bands, 
taking various and devious routes back to their old station 20 
in front of Harlem. Many was the sufferer, in cattle, 
furniture, and person, that was created by this rout; for 
the dispersion of a troop of Cow-Boys was only the exten- 
sion of an evil. 

Such a scene could not be expected to be acted so near 25 
them, and the inmates of the cottage take no interest in 
the result. In truth, the feelings it excited pervaded every 
bosom, from the kitchen to the parlour. Terror and horror 
had prevented the ladies from being spectators, but they 
did not feel the less. Frances continued lying in the posture 30 
we have mentioned, offering up fervent and incoherent 
petitions for the safety of her countrymen, although in her 
inmost heart she had personified her nation by the graceful 
image of Peyton Dunwoodie. Her aunt and sister were 
less exclusive in their devotions; but Sarah began to feel, 35 
as the horrors of war were thus brought home to her senses, 
less pleasure in her anticipated triumphs. 

The inmates of Mr. Wharton’s kitchen were four — 
namely, Caesar and his spouse, their grand-daiighter, a jet- 
black damsel of twenty, and the boy before alluded to. 40 
The blacks were the remnants of a race of negroes which 


78 


THE SPY 


had been entailed on his estate from Mr. Wharton’s mater- 
nal ancestors, who were descended from the early Dutch 
colonists. Time, depravity, and death had reduced them 
to this small number; and the boy, who was white, had 
5 been added by Miss Peyton to the establishment, as an 
assistant, to perform the ordinary services of a footman. 
Csesar, after first using the precaution to place himself 
under the cover of an angle in the wall, for a screen against 
any roving bullet which might be traversing the air, became 
lo an amused spectator of the skirmish. The sentinel on the 
piazza was at the distance of but a few feet from him, and 
he entered into the spirit of the chase with all the ardour of 
a tried blood-hound : he noticed the approach of the black, 
and his judicious position, with a smile of contempt, as he 
1 5 squared himself towards the enemy, offering his unpro- 
tected breast to any dangers which might come. 

After considering the arrangement of Caesar, for a mo- 
ment, with ineffable disdain, the dragoon said, with great 
coolness — 

20 ‘‘You seem very careful of that beautiful person of yours, 
Mr. Blueskin.” 

“A bullet hurt a coloured man as much as a white,” 
muttered the black, surlily, casting a glance of much satis- 
faction at his rampart. 

25 “Suppose I make the experiment,” returned the sentinel : 
as he spoke, he deliberately drew a pistol from his belt, and 
levelled it at the black. Caesar’s teeth chattered at the 
appearance of the dragoon, although he believed nothing 
serious was intended. At this moment the column of Dun- 
30 woodie began to retire, and the royal cavalry commenced 
their charge. 

“There, Mister Light-Horseman,” said Caesar, eagerly, 
who believed the Americans were retiring in earnest; “why 
you rebels don’t fight — see — see how King George’s men 
35 make Major Dunwoodie run ! Good gentleman, too, but 
he don’t like to fight a rig’lar.” 

“Damn your regulars,” cried the other, fiercely; “wait 
a minute, blackey, and you’ll see Captain Jack Lawton 
come out from behind yonder hill, and scatter these Cow- 
40 Boys like wild geese who’ve lost their leader.” 

Caesar supposed the party under Lawton to have sought 


THE SPY 


79 


the shelter of the hill from motives similar to that which 
had induced him to place the wall between himself and the 
battle-ground; but the fact soon verified the trooper’s 
prophecy, and the black witnessed with consternation the 
total rout of the royal horse. 5 

The sentinel manifested his exultation at the success of 
his comrades with loud shouts, which soon brought his 
companion, who had been left in the more immediate charge 
of Henry Wharton, to the open window of the parlour. 

“See, Tom, see,” cried the delighted trooper, “how Cap- 10 
tain Lawton makes that Hessian’s leather cap fly ; and now 
the Major has killed the officer’s horse — zounds, why 
didn’t he kill the Dutchman, and save the horse?” 

A few pistols were discharged at the flying Cow-Boys, 
and a spent bullet broke a pane of glass within a few feet 15 
of Caesar. Imitating the posture of the great tempter of 
our race, the black sought the protection of the inside of 
the building, and immediately ascended to the parlour. 

The lawn in front of the Locusts was hidden from the 
view of the road by a close line of shrubbery, and the 20 
horses of the two dragoons had been left, linked together, 
under its shelter to await the movements of their masters. 

At this moment two Cow-Boys, who had been cut off 
from a retreat to their own party, rode furiously through 
the gate, with an intention of escaping to the open wood in 25 
the rear of the cottage. 

The victorious Americans pressed the retreating Germans 
until they had driven them under the protection of the fire 
of the infantry; and feeling themselves, in the privacy of 
the lawn, relieved from any immediate danger, the preda- 30 
tory warriors yielded to a temptation that few of the 
corps were ever known to resist — opportunity and horse- 
flesh. With a hardihood and presence of mind that could 
only exist from long practice in similar scenes, they made 
towards their intended prizes, by an almost spontaneous 35 
movement. They were busily engaged in separating the 
fastenings of the horses, when the trooper on the piazza 
discharged his pistols, and rushed, sword in hand, to the 
rescue. 

The entrance of Caesar into the parlour had induced the 40 
wary dragoon within, to turn his attention more closely on 


80 


THE SPY 


his prisoner; but this new interruption drew him again 
to the window. He threw his body out of the building, 
and with dreadful imprecations endeavoured, by his threats 
and appearance, to frighten the marauders from their prey. 

5 The moment was enticing. Three hundred of his comrades 
were within a mile of the cottage; unridden horses were 
running at large in every direction, and Henry Wharton 
seized the unconscious sentinel by his legs, and threw him 
headlong into the lawn. — Caesar vanished from the room, 
lo and drew a bolt of the outer door. 

The fall of the soldier was not great, and recovering his 
feet, he turned his fury for a moment on his prisoner. To 
scale the window in the face of such an enemy, was, how- 
ever, impossible, and on trial he found the main entrance 
15 barred. 

His comrade now called loudly upon him for aid, and 
forgetful of every thing else, the discomfited trooper rushed 
to his assistance. One horse was instantly liberated, but 
the other was already fastened to the saddle of a Cow-Boy, 

20 and the four retired behind the building, cutting furiously j 
at each other with their sabres, and making the air resound | 
with their imprecations. Caesar threw the outer door open, j 
and pointing to the remaining horse, that was quietly biting j 
the faded herbage of the lawn, he exclaimed — • 

25 “ Run — now — run — Massa Harry, run.” i 

“Yes,” cried the youth as he vaulted into the saddle, 
“now, indeed, my honest fellow, is the time to run.” He 
beckoned hastily to his father, who stood at the window 
in speechless anxiety, with his hands extended towards his 
30 child in the attitude of benediction, and adding, “ God 
bless you, Caesar, salute the girls,” he dashed through the 
gate, with the rapidity of lightning. 

The African watched him with anxiety as he gained the 
highway, saw him incline to the right, and riding furiously 
35 under the brow of some rocks, which on that side rose'per- 
pendicularly, disappear behind a projection, which soon 
hid him from view. 

The delighted Caesar closed the door, pushing bolt after 
bolt, and turning the key until it would turn no more, solilo- 
40 quising the whole time on the happy escape of his young 
master’ 


THE SPY 


81 


“ How well he ride — teach him good deal myself — 
salute a young lady — Miss Fanny wouldn’t let old coloured 
man kiss a red cheek.” 

When the fortune of the day was decided, and the time 
arrived for the burial of the dead, two Cow-Boys and a 5 
Virginian were found in the rear of the Locusts, to be in- 
cluded in the number. 

Happily for Henry Wharton, the searching eyes of his 
captor were examining, through a pocket-glass, the column 
of infantry that still held its position on the bank of the 10 
stream, while the remnants of the Hessian yagers were 
seeking its friendly protection. His horse was of the best 
blood of Virginia, and carried him with the swiftness of 
the wind along the valley ; and the heart of the youth was 
already beating tumultuously with pleasure at his deliver- 15 
ance when a well-known voice reached his startled ear, 
crying aloud — 

“Bravely done. Captain! Don’t spare the whip, and 
turn to your left before you cross the brook.” 

Wharton turned his head in surprise, and saw, sitting on 20 
the point of a jutting rock that commanded a bird’s eye 
view of the valley, his former guide, Harvey Birch. His 
pack, much diminished in size, lay at the feet of the pedler, 
who waved his hat to the youth, exultingly, as the latter 
flew by him. The English captain took the advice of this 25 
mysterious being, and finding a good road, which led to 
the highway that intersected the valley, turned down its 
direction, and was soon opposite to his friends. The next 
minute he crossed the bridge, and stopped his charger before 
his old acquaintance. Colonel Wellmere. 30 

“Captain Wharton!” exclaimed the astonished com- 
mander of the English troops, “dressed in mohair, and 
mounted on a rebel dragoon horse ! are you from the 
clouds in this attire, and in such a style?” 

“Thank God !” cried the youth, recovering his breath, “I 35 
am safe, and have escaped from the hands of my enemies; 
but five minutes since and I was a prisoner, and threatened 
with the gallows.” 

“The gallows. Captain Wharton! surely those traitors 
to the king would never dare to commit another murder in 40 
cold blood; is it not enough that they took the life of 

G 


82 


THE SPY 


Andr6? wherefore did they threaten you with a similar 
fate?” 

“Under the pretence of a similar offence,” said the Cap- 
tain, briefly explaining to the group of listeners the manner 
5 of his capture, the grounds of his personal apprehensions, 
and the method of his escape. By the time he had con- 
cluded his narration, the fugitive Germans were collected 
in the rear of the column of infantry, and Colonel Wellmere 
cried aloud — 

lo “From my soul I congratulate you, my brave friend; 
mercy is a quality with which these traitors are unac- 
quainted, and you are doubly fortunate in escaping from 
their hands uninjured. Prepare yourself to grant me your 
assistance, and I will soon afford you a noble revenge.” 

15 “I do not think there was danger of personal outrage to 
any man. Colonel Wellmere, from a party that Major Dun- 
woodie commands,” returned young Wharton, with a slight 
glow on his face: “his character is above the imputation 
of such an offence; neither do I think it altogether prudent 
20 to cross this brook into the open plain, in the face of those 
Virginian horse, flushed as they must be with the success 
they have just obtained.” 

“Do you call the rout of those irregulars and these 
sluggish Hessians a deed to boast of?” said the other 
25 with a contemptuous smile: “you speak of the affair. 
Captain Wharton, as if your boasted Mr. Dunwoodie, for 
Major he is none, had discomfited the body guards of your 
king.” 

“And I must be allowed to say. Colonel Wellmere, that if 
30 the body guards of my king were in yon field, they would 
meet a foe that it would be dangerous to despise. Sir, my 
boasted Mr. Dunwoodie is the pride of Washington’s army 
as a cavalry officer,” cried Henry, with warmth. 

“Dunwoodie — Dunwoodie !” repeated the Colonel slowly; 
35 “surely I have met the gentleman before.” 

“I have been told you once saw him for a moment, at i 
the town residence of my sisters,” replied Wharton, with a j 
lurking smile. 

“Ah ! I do remember me of such a youth; and does the 
40 most potent congress of these rebellious colonies intrust I 
their soldiers to the leading of such a warrior?” 


I 


THE SPY 


83 


“Ask the commander of yon Hessian horse, whether he 
thinks Major Dunwoodie worthy of the confidence.” 

Colonel Wellmere was far from wanting that kind of 
pride which makes a man bear himself bravely in the 
presence of his enemies. He had served in America a long 5 
time, without ever meeting with any but new raised levies, 
or the. militia of the country. These would sometimes 
fight, and that fearlessly, but they as often chose to run 
away without pulling a trigger. He was too apt to judge 
from externals, and thought it impossible for men whose 10 
gaiters were so clean, whose tread so regular, and who 
wheeled with so much accuracy, to be beaten. In addition 
to all these, they were Englishmen, and their success was 
certain. Colonel Wellmere had never been kept much in 
the field, or these notions, which he had brought with him 15 
from home, and which had been greatly increased by the 
vapouring of a garrisoned town, would have long since 
vanished. He listened to the warm reply of Captain 
Wharton with a supercilious smile, and then enquired — 
“You would not have us retire, sir, before these boasted 20 
horsemen, without doing something that may deprive them 
of part of the glory which you appear to think they have 
gained ? ” 

“I would have you advised. Colonel Wellmere, of the 
danger you are about to encounter.” 25 

“Danger is but an unseemly word for a soldier,” con- 
tinued the British commander with a sneer. 

“ And one as little dreaded by the 60 th as any corps who 
wear the royal livery,” cried Henry Wharton, fiercely; 
“give but the word to charge, and let our actions speak.” 3° 
“Now again I know my young friend,” said Wellmere, 
soothingly; “but if you have anything to say before we 
fight, that can in any manner help us in our attack, we'll 
listen. You know the force of the rebels: are there more 
of them in ambush?” 35 

“Yes,” replied the youth, chafing still with the other's 
sneers, “in the skirt of this wood on our right are a small 
party of foot : their horse are all before you.” 

“Where thev will not continue long,” cried Wellmere, 
turning to the*' few officers around him. “Gentlemen, we 40 
will cross the stream in column, and display on the plain 


84 


THE SPY 


beyond, or else we shall not be able to entice these valiant 
Yankees within the reach of our muskets. Captain Whar- 
ton, I claim your assistance as an aide-de-camp.” 

The youth shook his head in disapprobation of a move- 
5 ment which his good sense taught him was rash, but pre- 
pared with alacrity to perform his duty in the impending 
trial. 

During this conversation, which was held at a small 
distance in advance of the British column, and in full view 
lo of the Americans, Dunwoodie had been collecting his scat- 
tered troops, securing his few prisoners, and retiring to the 
ground where he had been posted at the first appearance 
of his enemy. Satisfied with the success he had already 
obtained, and believing the English too wary to give him 
15 an opportunity of harassing them farther, he was about to 
withdraw the guides; and, leaving a strong party on the 
ground to watch the movement of the regulars, to fall back 
a few miles, to a favourable place for taking up his quarters 
for the night. Captain Lawton was reluctantly listening to 
20 the reasoning of his commander, and had brought out his 
favourite glass, to see if no opening could be found for an 
advantageous attack, when he suddenly exclaimed — 

“How’s this? a blue coat among those scarlet gentry. 
As I hope to live to see old Virginia, it is my masquerading 
25 friend of the 60 th, the handsome Captain Wharton, escaped 
from two of my best men !” 

He had not done speaking when the survivor of these 
heroes joined his troop, bringing with him his own horse 
and those of the Cow-Boys : he reported the death of his 
30 comrade, and the escape of his prisoner. As the deceased 
was the immediate sentinel over the person of young Whar- 
ton, and the other was not to be blamed for defending the 
horses, which were more particularly under his care, his 
captain heard him with uneasiness, but without anger. 

35 This intelligence made an entire change in the views of 
Major Dunwoodie. He saw at once that his own reputation 
was involved in the escape of his prisoner. The order to 
recall the guides was countermanded, and he now joined his 
second in command, watching as eagerly as the impetuous 
40 Lawton himself, for some opening to assail his foe to ad- 
vantage. 


THE SPY 


85 


But two hours before, and Dunwoodie had felt the chance 
which made Henry Wharton his captive, as the severest 
blow he had ever sustained. Now he panted for an oppor- 
tunity in which, by risking his own life, he might recapture 
his friend. All other considerations were lost in the. goad- s 
ings of a wounded spirit, and he might have soon emulated 
Lawton in hardihood, had not Wellmere and his troops at 
this moment crossed the brook into the open plain. 

“There,” cried the delighted Captain, as he pointed out 
the movement with his finger, “there comes John Bull into lo 
the mouse-trap, and with eyes wide open.” 

“Surely,” said Dunwoodie, eagerly, “he will not display 
his column on that flat: Wharton must tell him of the 
ambush. But if he does — ” 

“We will not leave him a dozen sound skins in his bat- 15 
talion,” interrupted the other, springing into his saddle. 

The truth was soon apparent; for the English column, 
after advancing for a short distance on the level land, dis- 
played with an accuracy that would have done them honour 
on a field-day in their own Hyde Park. 20 

. “Prepare to mount — mount!” cried Dunwoodie; the 
last word being repeated by Lawton in a tone that rang in 
the ears of Caesar, who stood at the open window of the 
cottage. The black recoiled in dismay, having lost all his 
confidence in Captain Lawton’s timidity; for he thought 25 
he yet saw him emerging from his cover and waving his 
sword on high. 

As the British line advanced slowly and in exact order, 
the guides opened a galling fire. It began to annoy that 
part of the royal troops which was nearest to them. Well- 30 
mere listened to the advice of the veteran who was next 
to him in rank, and ordered two companies to dislodge the 
American foot from their hiding-place. The movement 
created a slight confusion; and Dunwoodie seized the 
opportunity to charge. No ground could be more favour- 35 
able for the manoeuvres of horse, and the attack of the 
Virginians was irresistible. It was aimed chiefly at the 
bank opposite to the wood, in order to clear the Americans 
from the fire of their friends who were concealed; and it 
was completely successful. Wellmere, who was on the left 40 
of his line, was overthrown by the impetuous fury of his 


86 


THE SPY 


assailants. Dunwoodie was in time to save him from the 
impending blow of one of his men, and raised him from 
the ground, had him placed on a horse, and delivered to the 
custody of his orderly. The officer who had suggested the 
5 attack upon the guides had been intrusted with its execu- 
tion, but the menace was sufficient for these irregulars. In 
fact, their duty was performed, and they retired along the 
skirt of the wood, with intent to regain their horses, which 
had been left under a guard at the upper end of the valley, 
lo The left of the British line was outflanked by the Amerl- 
cans, who doubled in their rear, and thus made the rout 
in that quarter total. But the second in command, per- 
ceiving how the battle went, promptly wheeled his party, 
and threw in a heavy fire on the dragoons, as they passed 
15 him to the charge; with this party was Henry Wharton, 
who had volunteered to assist in dispersing the guides: a 
ball struck his bridle-arm, and compelled him to change 
hands. As the dragoons dashed by them, rending the air 
with their shouts, and with trumpets sounding a lively 
20 strain, the charger ridden by the youth became ungovern- 
able — he plunged, reared, and his rider being unable, with 
his wounded arm, to manage the impatient animal, Henry 
Wharton found himself, in less than a minute, unwillingly 
riding by the side of Captain Lawton. The dragoon com- 
25 prehended at a glance the ludicrous situation of his new 
comrade, but had only time to cry aloud, before they 
plunged into the English line — - 

“The horse ’knows the righteous cause better than his 
rider. Captain Wharton, you are welcome to the ranks 
30 of freedom.” 

No time was lost, however, by Lawton-, after the charge 
was completed, in securing his prisoner again; and, per- 
ceiving him to be hurt, he directed him to be conveyed to 
the rear. 

35 The Virginian troopers dealt out their favours, \vith no 
gentle hands, on that part of the royal foot who were thus 
left in a great measure at their mercy. Dunwoodie, observ- 
ihg that the remnant of the Hessians had again ventured 
on the plain, led on in pursuit, and easily overtaking their 
40 light and half-fed horses, soon destroyed the remainder of 
the detachment. 


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87 


In the mean while, great numbers of the English, taking 
advantage of the smoke and confusion in the field, were 
enabled to get in the rear of the body of their countrymen, 
which still preserved its order in a line parallel to the wood, 
but which had been obliged to hold its fire, from the fear 5 
of injuring friends as well as foes. The fugitives were 
directed to form a second line within the wood itself, and 
under cover of the trees. This arrangement was not yet 
completed, when Captain Lawton called to a youth, who 
commanded the other troop left with that part of the force 10 
which remained on the ground, and proposed charging the 
unbroken line of the British. The proposal was as promptly 
accepted as it had been made, and the troops were arrayed 
for the purpose. The eagerness of their leader prevented 
the preparations necessary to ensure success, and the horse, 15 
receiving a destructive fire as they advanced, were thrown 
into additional confusion. Both Lawton and his more 
juvenile comrade fell at this discharge. Fortunately for 
the credit of the Virginians, Major Dunwoodie re-entered 
the field at this critical instant ; he saw his troops in dis- 20 
order; at his feet lay weltering in blood George Singleton, 
a youth endeared to him by numberless virtues, and Law- 
ton was unhorsed, and stretched on the plain. The eye 
of the youthful warrior flashed fire. Riding between this 
squadron and the enemy, in a voice that reached the hearts 25 
of his dragoons, he recalled them to their duty. His pres- 
ence and words acted like magic. The clamour of voices 
ceased; the line was formed promptly and with exactitude; 
the charge sounded; and, led on by their commander, the 
Virginians swept across the plain with an impetuosity that 3° 
nothing could withstand, and the field was instantly cleared 
of the enemy: those who were not destroyed sought a 
shelter in the woods. Dunwoodie slowly withdrew from 
the fire of the English who were covered by the trees, and 
commenced the painful duty of collecting his dead and 35 
wounded. 

The sergeant, charged with conducting Henry Wharton 
to a place where he might procure surgical aid, set about 
performing his duty with alacrity, in order to return as 
soon as possible to the scene of strife. They had not 4° 
reached the middle of the plain, before the captain noticed 


88 


THE SPY 


a man whose appearance and occupation forcibly arrested 
his attention. His head was bald and bare, but a well- 
powdered wig was to be seen, half-concealed, in the pocket 
of his breeches. His coat was off, and his arms were naked 
5 to the elbow ; blood had disfigured much of his dress, and 
his hands, and even face, bore this mark of his profession; 
in his mouth was a segar ; in his right hand some instruments 
of strange formation, and in his left the remnants of an 
apple, with which he occasionally relieved the duty of the 
lo before-mentioned segar. He was standing, lost in the 
contemplation of a Hessian, who lay breathless before him. 
At a little distance were three or four of the guides, leaning 
on their muskets, and straining their eyes in the direction 
of the combatants, and at his elbow stood a man who, 
15 from the implements in his hand, and his bloody vest- 
ments, seemed an assistant. 

“There, sir, is the doctor,'' said the attendant of Henry, 
very coolly ; “ he will patch up your arm in the twinkling of 
an eye;" and beckoning to the guides to approach, he 
20 whispered and pointed to his prisoner, and then galloped 
furiously towards his comrades. 

Wharton advanced to the side of this strange figure, and 
observing himself to be unnoticed, was about to request his 
assistance, when the other broke silence in a soliloquy — 

25 “Now, I know this man to have been killed by Captain 
Lawton, as well as if I had seen him strike the blow. How 
often have I strove to teach him the manner in which he 
can disable his adversary, without destroying life ! It is 
cruel thus unnecessarily to cut off the human race, and 
30 furthermore, such blows as these render professional as- 
sistance unnecessary ; it is in a measure treating the lights 
of science with disrespect." 

“If, sir, your leisure will admit," said Henry Wharton, 
“I must beg your attention to a slight hurt." 

35 “Ah !" cried the other, starting, and examining him from 
head to foot, “you are from the field below; is there much 
business there, sir?" 

“Indeed," answered Henry, accepting the offer of the 
surgeon to assist in removing his coat, “'tis a stirring time, 
40 I can assure you." 

“Stirring!" repeated the surgeon, busily employed with 


THE SPY 


89 


his dressings; “you give me great pleasure, sir; for so 
long as they can stir there must be life; and while there is 
life, you know, there is hope; but here my art is of no use. 

I did put in the brains of one patient, but I rather think 
the man must have been dead before I saw him. It is a 5 
curious case, sir ; I will take you to see it — only across the 
fence there, where you may perceive so many bodies to- 
gether. Ah ! the ball has glanced around the bone without 
shattering it; you are fortunate in falling into the hands 
of an old practitioner, or you might have lost this limb.” 10 
“Indeed!” said Henry, with a slight uneasiness; “I did 
not apprehend the injury to be so serious.” 

“ Oh 1 the hurt is not bad, but you have such a pretty 
arm for an operation ; the pleasure of the thing might have 
tempted a novice.” 15 

“ The devil I ” cried the Capt§,in ; “ can there be any 
pleasure in mutilating a fellow-creature?” 

“Sir,” said the surgeon, with gravity, “a scientific am- 
putation is a very pretty operation, and doubtless might 
tempt a younger man, in the hurry of business, to overlook 20 
all the particulars of the case.” 

Further conversation was interrupted by the appearance 
of the dragoons, slowly marching towards their former 
halting-place, and new applications from the slightly 
wounded soldiers, who now came riding in, making hasty 25 ^ 
demands on the skill of the doctor. 

The guides took charge of Wharton, and, with a heavy 
heart, the young man retraced his steps to his father’s 
cottage. 

The English had lost in the several charges about one- 3° 
third of their foot, but the remainder were rallied in the 
wood ; and Dunwoodie, perceiving them to be too strongly 
posted to assail, had left a strong party with Captain Law- 
ton, with orders to watch their motions, and to seize every 
opportunity to harass them before they re-embarked. 35 
Intelligence had reached the Major of another party 
being out, by the way of the Hudson, and his duty required 
that he should hold himself in readiness to defeat the in- 
tentions of these also. Captain Lawton received his orders, 
with strong injunctions to make no assault on the foe, unless 40 
a favourable chance should offer. The injury received by 


90 


THE SPY 


this officer was in the head, being stunned by a glancing 
bullet; and parting with a laughing declaration from the 
Major, that if he again forgot himself, they should all think 
him more materially hurt, each took his own course. 

5 The British were a light party without baggage, that had 
been sent out to destroy certain stores, understood to be 
collecting for the use of the American army. They now 
retired through the woods to the heights, and, keeping the 
route along their summits, in places unassailable by cavalry, 
lo commenced a retreat to their boats. 


CHAPTER VIII 


With fire and sword the country round 
Was wasted far and wide ; 

And many a childing mother then, 

And new-born baby died; 

But things like these, you know, must be 
At every famous victory. 

Southey: The Battle of Blenheim. 

The last sounds of the combat died on the ears of the 
anxious listeners in the cottage, and were succeeded by 
the stillness of suspense. Frances had continued by her- 
self, striving to exclude the uproar, and vainly endeavour- 
ing to summon resolution to meet the dreaded result. The 5 
ground where the charge on the foot had taken place was 
but a ‘Short mile from the Locusts, and, in the intervals of 
the musketry, the cries of the soldiers had even reached the 
ears of its inhabitants. After witnessing the escape of his 
son, Mr. Wharton had joined his sister and eldest daughter 10 
in their retreat, and the three continued fearfully waiting 
for news from the field. Unable longer to remain under 
the painful uncertainty of her situation, Frances soon 
added herself to the uneasy group, and Caesar was directed 
to examine into the state of things without, and report on 15 
whose banners victory had alighted. The father now 
briefly related to his astonished children the circumstance 
and manner of their brother's escape. They were yet in 
the freshness of their surprise, when the door opened, and 
Captain Wharton, attended by a couple of the guides, 20 
and followed by the black, stood before them. 

“Henry — my son, my son,” cried the agitated parent, 
stretching out his arms, yet unable to rise from his seat; 
“what is it I see? are you again a captive, and in danger 
of your life?” 25 

“The better fortune of these rebels has prevailed,” said 
the youth, endeavouring to force a cheerful smile, and 

91 


92 


THE SPY 


taking a hand of each of his distressed sisters. “I strove , 
nobly for my liberty; but the perverse spirit of rebellion m 
has even lighted on their horses. The steed I mounted i 
carried me, greatly against my will, I acknowledge, into 
5 the very centre of Dunwoodie’s men.’’ 

“And you were again captured,” continued the father, ' 
casting a fearful glance on the armed attendants who had ' 
entered the room. 

“That, sir, you may safely say: this Mr. Lawton, who - 
lo sees so far, had me in custody again immediately.” 

“Why you no hold ’em in, Massa Harry?” cried Caesar, i 
pettishly. ^ i , 

“That,” said Wharton, smiling, “was a thing easier said ti 
than done, Mr. Caesar, especially as these gentlemen” | 
15 (glancing his eyes at the guides) “had seen proper to de- ; 
prive me of the use of my better arm.” 

“Wounded!” exclaimed both sisters in a breath. 

“A mere scratch, but disabling me at a most critical mo- 
ment,” continued the brother, kindly, and stretching out 
20 the injured limb to manifest the truth of his declaration. ■ 
Caesar threw a look of bitter animosity on the irregular ■ 
warriors who were thought to have had an agency in the 
deed, and left the room. A few more words sufficed to 
explain all that Captain Wharton knew relative to the 
25 fortune of the day. The result he thought yet doubtful, ‘ 
for when he left the ground, the Virginians were retiring i 
from the field of battle. 

“They had tree’d the squirrel,” said one of the sentinels 
abruptly, “and didn’t quit the ground without leaving a 
30 good hound for the chase, when he comes down.” 

“Ay,” added his comrade, dryly, “I’m thinking Captain 
Lawton will count the noses of what are left before they , 
see their whale-boats.” 

Frances had stood supporting herself by the back of a . 
35 chair, during this dialogue, catching in breathless anxiety : 
every syllable as it was uttered ; her colour changed rapidly ; , 
her limbs shook under her; until, with desperate resolution, ; 
she enquired — 

“Is any officer hurt on — the — on either side?” 

40 “Yes,” answered the man, cavalierly, “these southern;] 
youths are so full of mettle, that it’s seldom we fight but . ; 


THE SPY 


93 


one or two gets knocked over; one of the wounded, who 
came up before the troops, told me that Captain Singleton 
was killed, and Major Dunwoodie — 

Frances heard no more, but fell lifeless in the chair be- 
hind her. The attention of her friends soon revived her, 5 
when the Captain, turning to the man, said, fearfully — 
‘‘Surely Major Dunwoodie is unhurt?” 

“ Never fear him,” added the guide, disregarding the agita- 
tion of the family; “they say a man who is born to be 
hanged will never be drowned : if a bullet could kill the 10 
Major, he would have been dead long ago. I was going 
to say, that the Major is in a sad taking because of the 
Captain’s being killed; but had I known how much store 
the lady set by him, I wouldn’t have been so plain-spoken.” 

Frances now rose quickly from her seat, with cheeks 15 
glowing with confusion, and, leaning on her aunt, was about 
to retire, when Dunwoodie himself appeared. The first 
emotion of the agitated girl was unalloyed happiness; 
in the next instant she shrank back appalled from the un- 
usual expression that reigned in his countenance. The 20 
sternness of battle yet sat on his brow; hi^ye was fixed 
and severe. The smile of affection that used to lighten 
his dark features on meeting his mistress, was supplanted 
by the lowering look of care; his whole soul seemed to be 
absorbed in one engrossing emotion, and he proceeded at 25 
once to his object. 

“Mr. Wharton,” he earnestly began, “in times like these, 
we need not stand on idle ceremony: one of my officers, 

I am afraid, is hurt mortally; and, presuming on your 
hospitality, I have brought him to your door.” 3° 

“I am happy, sir, that you have done so,” said Mr. Whar- 
ton, at once perceiving the importance of conciliating the 
American troops; “the necessitous are always welcome, 
and doubly so, in being the friend of Major Dunwoodie.” 

“Sir, I thank you for myself, and in behalf of him who is 35 
unable to render you his thanks,” returned the other, 
hastily; “if you please, we will have him conducted where 
the surgeon may see and report upon his case, without 
delay.” To this there could be no objection; and Frances 
felt a chill at her heart, as her lover withdrew, without 4 ° 
casting a solitary look on herself. 


94 


THE SPY 


There is a devotedness in female love that admits of no 
rivalry. All the tenderness of the heart, all the powers 
of the imagination, are enlisted in behalf of the tyrant 
passion ; and where all is given, much is looked for in return. 

5 Frances had spent hours of anguish, of torture, on account 
of Dunwoodie, and he now met her without a smile, and 
left her without a greeting. The ardour of her feelings 
was unabated, but the elasticity of her hopes was weakened. 
As the supporters of the nearly lifeless body of Dunwoodie’s 
lo friend passed her, in their way to the apartment prepared 
for his reception, she caught a view of this seeming rival. 

His pale and ghastly countenance, sunken eye, and 
difficult breathing, gave her a glimpse of death in its most 
fearful form. Dunwoodie was by his side, and held his 
15 hand, giving frequent and stern injunctions to the men to 
proceed with care, and, in short,manifesting all the solicitude 
that the most tender friendship could, on such an occasion, , 
inspire. Frances moved lightly before them, and, with 1 
an averted face, she held open the door for their passage j 
20 to the bed; it was only as the Major touched her garments, 
on entering the room, that she ventured to raise her mild 
blue eyes to his face. But the glance was unreturned, 
and Frances unconsciously sighed as she sought the soli- 
tude of her own apartment. 

25 Captain Wharton voluntarily gave a pledge to his keepers 
not to attempt again escaping, and then proceeded to exe- 1 
cute those duties, on behalf of his father, which were thought | 
necessary in a host. On entering the passage for that pur- 1 
pose, he met the operator who had so dexterously dressed 
30 his arm, advancing to the room of the wounded officer. 
‘‘Ah!” cried the disciple of Esculapius,® “I see you are 
doing well; but stop; have you a pin? No! here, I have 
one; you must keep the cold air from your hurt, or some 
of the youngsters will be at work at you yet.” 

35 “God forbid,” muttered the Captain, in an under-tone, 
attentively adjusting the bandages; when Dunwoodie 
appeared at the door, impatiently crying aloud — 

“Hasten, Sitgreaves, hasten; or George Singleton will 
die from loss of blood.” 

40 “What! Singleton! God forbid! Bless me — is it 
George — poor little George?” exclaimed the surgeon, as 


THE SPY 


95 


he quickened his pace with evident concern, and hastened 
to the side of the bed; “he is alive, though, and while there 
is life there is hope. This is the first serious case I have had 
to-day, where the patient was not already dead. Captain 
Lawton teaches his men to strike with so little discretion 5 
• — poor George — bless me, it is a musket bullet.” 

The youthful sufferer turned his eyes on the man of 
science, and with a faint smile endeavoured to stretch forth 
his hand. There was an appeal in the look and action that 
touched the heart of the operator. The surgeon removed 10 
his spectacles to wipe an unusual moisture from his eyes, 
and proceeded carefully to the discharge of his duty. While 
the previous arrangements were, however, making, he gave 
vent in some measure to his feelings, by saying — 

“When it is only a bullet, I have always some hopes; 15 
there is a chance that it hits nothing vital; but, bless me, 
Captain Lawton’s men cut so at random — generally sever 
the jugular or the carotid artery,® or let out the brains, and 
all are so difficult to remedy — the patient mostly dying 
before one can get at him. I never had success but once in 20 
replacing a man’s brains, although I have tried three this 
very day. It is easy to tell where Lawton’s troop charge 
in a battle, they cut so at random.” 

The group around the bed of Captain Singleton were too 
much accustomed to the manner of their surgeon to regard 25 
or to reply to his soliloquy; but they quietly awaited the 
moment when he was to commence his examination. This 
now took.place, and Dunwoodie stood looking the operator 
in the face, with an expression that seemed to read his soul. 
The patient shrunk from the application of the probe, and a 3° 
smile stole over the features of the surgeon, as he muttered — 
“There has been nothing before it in that quarter.” He 
now applied himself in earnest to his work, took off his 
spectacles, and threw aside his wig. All this time Dun- 
woodie stood in feverish silence, holding one of the hands 35 
of the sufferer in both his own, watching the countenance 
of Doctor Sitgreaves. At length Singleton gave a slight 
groan, and the surgeon rose with alacrity, and said aloud — 
“Ah! there is some pleasure in following a bullet; it 
may be said to meander through the human body, injuring 40 
nothing vital; but as for Captain Lawton’s men — ” 


96 


THE SPY 


“Speak,” interrupted Dunwoodie; “is there hope? — can 
you find the ball?” 

“It’s no difficult matter to find that which one has in his 
hand, Major Dunwoodie,” replied the surgeon, coolly, pre-| 
5 paring his dressings; “it took what that literal fellow. Cap- 
tain Lawton, calls a circumbendibus, a route never taken i 
by the swords of his men, notwithstanding the multiplied! 
pains I have been at to teach him how to cut scientifically, j 
Now, I saw a horse this day with his head half severed from! 
lo his body.” 

“That,” said Dunwoodie, as the blood rushed to his 
cheeks again, and his dark eyes sparkled with the rays of 
hope, “was some of my handiwork; I killed that horse 
myself.” , 

15 “You!” exclaimed the surgeon, dropping his dressing in 
surprise, “you 1 but you knew it was a horse !” 

“I had such suspicions, I own,” said the Major, smiling, 
and holding a beverage to the lips of his friend. 

“Such blows alighting on the human frame are fatal,”; 
20 continued the Doctor, pursuing his business; “they set at 
nought the benefits which flow from the lights of science; 
they are useless in a battle, for disabling your foe is all 
that is required. I have sat. Major Dunwoodie, many a 
cold hour, while Captain Lawton has been engaged, and 
25 after all my expectation, not a single case worth recording 
has occurred — all scratches or death- wounds ; ah ! the 
sabre is a sad weapon in unskilful hands ! Yes, Major Dun- 
woodie, many are the hours I have thrown away in en-i 
deavouring to impress this truth on Captain John Lawton.”! 
30 The impatient Major pointed silently to his friend, andj 
the surgeon quickened his movements. ' 

“Ah! poor George, it is a narrow chance; but — ” he 
was interrupted by a messenger requiring the presence 
of the commanding officer in the field. Dunwoodie pressee; 
35 the hand of his friend, and beckoned the Doctor to follovl 
him, as he withdrew. 

“What think you?” he whispered, on reaching the past 
sage; “will he live?” 

“He will.” 

40 “Thank God!” cried the youth, hastening below. 

Dunwoodie for a moment joined the family, who were nov 


THE SPY 


97 


collecting in the ordinary parlour. His face was no longer 
wanting in smiles, and his salutations, though hasty, were 
cordial. He took no notice of the escape and recapture of 
Henry Wharton, but seemed to think the young man had 
continued where he had left him before the encounter. 5 
On the ground they had not met. The English officer with- 
drew in haughty silence to a window, leaving the Major 
uninterrupted to make his communications. 

The excitement produced by the events of the day in the 
youthful feelings of the sisters, had been succeeded by a 10 
languor that kept them both silent, and Dunwoodie held 
his discourse with Miss Peyton. 

“Is there any hope, my cousin, that your friend can sur- 
vive his wound?’' said the lady, advancing towards her 
kinsman, with a smile of benevolent regard. 15 

“Every thing, my dear madam, every thing,” answered 
the soldier cheerfully. “Sitgreaves says he will live, and 
he has never deceived me.” 

“Your pleasure is not much greater than my own at this 
intelligence. One so dear to Major Dunwoodie cannot 20 
fail to excite an interest in the bosom of his friends.” 

“Say one so deservedly dear, madam,” returned the 
Major, with warmth: “he is the beneficent spirit of the 
corps, equally beloved by us all; so mild, so equal, so just, 
so generous, with the meekness of a lamb and the fondness 25 
of a dove — it is only in the hour of battle that Singleton is 
a lion.” 

“You speak of him as if he were your mistress. Major 
Dunwoodie,” observed the smiling spinster, glancing her 
eye at her niece, who sat pale and listening, in a corner of 3° 
the room. 

“I love him as one,” cried the excited youth; “but he 
requires care and nursing; all now depends on the attention 
he receives.” 

“Trust me, sir, he will want for nothing under this roof.” 35 

“Pardon me, dear madam; you are all that is benevolent, 
but Singleton requires a care which many men would feel to 
be irksome. It is at moments like these, and in sufferings 
like this, that the soldier most finds the want of female 
tenderness.” As he spoke, he turned his eyes on Frances 4° 
with an expression that again thrilled to the heart of his 

u 


98 


THE SPY 


mistress: she rose from her seat with burning cheeks, and 
said — 

“All the attention that can with propriety be given to 
a stranger, will be cheerfully bestowed on your friend.” 

5 “ Ah ! ” cried the Major, shaking his head, “ that cold word 

propriety will kill him; he must be fostered, cherished, 
soothed.” 

“These are offices for a sister or a wife.” 

“A sister !” repeated the soldier, the blood rushing to his 
lo own face tumultuously; “a sister! he has a sister; and 
one that might be here with to-morrow’s sun.” He paused, 
mused in silence, glanced his eyes uneasily at Frances, and 
muttered in an under- tone — “Singleton requires it, and it 
must be done.” 

15 The ladies had watched his varying countenance in some 
surprise, and Miss Peyton now observed that — 

“If there were a sister of Captain Singleton near them, 
her presence would be gladly requested both by herself and j 
nieces.” j 

20 “It must be, madam; it cannot well be otherwise,” 
replied Dunwoodie, with a hesitation that but ill agreed j 
with his former declarations; “she shall be sent for express 
this very night.” And then, as if willing to change the 
subject, he approached Captain Wharton, and continued, 
25 mildly — 

“Henry Wharton, to me honour is dearer than life; but 
in your hands I know it can safely be confided; remain 
here unwatched, until we leave the county, which will not 
be for some days.” 

30 The distance in the manner of the English officer vanished, ! 
and taking the^ offered hand of the other, he replied with 
warmth — “Your generous confidence, Peyton, will not be 
abused, even though the gibbet on which your Washington 
hung Andre be ready for my own execution.” 

35 “Henry, Henry Wharton,” said Dunwoodie reproach- 
fully, “you little know the man who leads our armies, or 
you would have spared him that reproach; but duty calls 
me without. I leave you where I could wish to stay my-, 
self, and where you cannot be wholly unhappy.” 

40 In passing Frances, she received another of those smiling 
looks of affection she so much prized, and for a season the 


THE SPY 


99 


impression made by his appearance after the battle was 
forgotten. 

Among the veteran's that had been impelled by the times 
to abandon the quiet of age for the service of their coun- 
try, was Colonel Singleton. He was a native of Georgias 
and had been for the earlier years of his life a soldier by 
profession. When the struggle for liberty commenced, he 
offered his services to his country, and from respect to his 
character they had been accepted. His years and health 
had, however, prevented his discharging the active duties lo 
of the field, and he had been kept in command of different 
posts of trust, where his country might receive the benefits 
of his vigilance and fidelity without inconvenience to him- 
self. For the last year he had been intrusted with the 
passes into the Highlands, and was now quartered, with 15 
his daughter, but a short day’s march above the valley 
where Dunwoodie had met the enemy. His only other 
child was the wounded officer we have mentioned. Thither, 
then, the Major prepared to despatch a messenger with the 
unhappy news of the Captain’s situation, and charged with 20 
such an invitation from the ladies as he did not doubt 
would speedily bring the sister to the couch of her brother. 

■^^his duty performed, though with an unwillingness that 
only could make his former anxiety more perplexing, Dun- 
woodie proceeded to the field where his troops had halted. 25 
The remnant of the English were already to be seen, over 
the tops of the trees, marching along the heights towards 
their boats, in compact order and with great watchfulness. 
The detachment of the dragoons under Lawton were a short 
distance on their flank, eagerly awaiting a favourable mo- 3° 
ment to strike a blow. In this manner bo 4 ;h parties were 
soon lost to view. 

A short distance above the Locusts was a small hamlet, 
where several roads intersected each other, and from which, 
consequently, access to the surrounding country was easy. 35 
It was a favourite halting-place of the horse, and frequently 
held by the light parties of the American army during their 
excursions below. Dunwoodie had been the first to dis- 
cover its advantages, and as it was necessary for him to 
remain in the county until further orders from above, it 40 
cannot be supposed he overlooked them now. To this 


100 


THE SPY 


place the troops were directed to retire, carrying with them 
their wounded; parties were already employed in the sad 
duty of interring the dead. In making these arrangements, j 
a new object of embarrassment presented itself to our young 
5 soldier. In moving through the field, he was struck with 
the appearance of Colonel Wellmcre, seated by himself, i 
brooding over his misfortunes, uninterrupted by any thing I 
but the passing civilities of the American officers. His 
anxiety on behalf of Singleton had hitherto banished the 
lo recollection of his captive from the mind of Dunwoodie, | 
and he now approached him with apologies for his neglect. 
The Englishman received his courtesies with coolness, and ' 
complained of being injured by what he affected to think I 
was the accidental stumbling of his horse. Dunwoodie, 

15 who had seen one of his own men ride him down, and that ' 
with very little ceremony, slightly smiled, as he offered , 
him surgical assistance. This could only be procured at I 
the cottage, and thither they both proceeded. , 

“Colonel Wellmere!” cried young Wharton in astonish- 
20 ment as they entered, “has the fortune of war been thus i 
cruel to you also ? — but you are welcome to the house of ' 
my father, although I could wish the introduction to have i 
taken place under more happy circumstances.” ' 

Mr. Wharton received this new guest with the guarded 
25 caution that distinguished his manner, and Dunwoodie left 
the room to seek the bedside of his friend. Every thing : 
here looked propitious, and he acquainted the surgeon that 
another patient waited his skill in the room below. The 
sound of the word was enough to set the doctor in motion, 

30 and seizing his implements of office, he went in quest of ! 
this new applicant. At the door of the parlour he was 
met by the ladies, who were retiring. Miss Peyton detained : 
him for a moment, to enquire into the welfare of Captain 
Singleton. Frances smiled with something of her natural 
35 archness of manner, as she contemplated the grotesque ■ 
appearance of the bald-headed practitioner; but Sarah 
was too much agitated, with the surprise of the unexpected 
interview with the British Colonel, to observe him. It 
has already been intimated that Colonel Wellmere was an 
40 old acquaintance of the family. Sarah had been so long 
absent from the city, that she had in some measure been 


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101 


banished from the remembrance of the gentleman; but 
the recollections of Sarah were more vivid. There is a 
period in the life of every woman when she may be said 
to be predisposed to love; it is at the happy age when 
infancy is lost in opening maturity — when the guileless 5 
heart beats with those anticipations of life which the truth 
can never realise — and when the imagination forms images 
of perfection that are copied after its own unsullied visions. 

At this happy age Sarah left the city, and she had brought 
with her a picture of futurity, faintly impressed, it is true, lo 
but which gained durability from her solitude, and in 
which Wellmere had been placed in the foreground. The 
surprise of the meeting had in some measure overpowered 
her, and after receiving the salutations of the colonel, she 
had risen, in compliance with a signal from her observant 15 
aunt, to withdraw. 

“Then, sir,” observed Miss Peyton, after listening to the 
surgeon’s account of his young patient, “ we may be flattered 
with the expectation that he will recover.” 

“’Tis certain, madam,” returned the doctor, endeavour- 20 
ing, out of respect to the ladies, to replace his wig; “’tis 
certain, with care and good nursing.” 

“In those he shall not be wanting,” said the spinster, 
mildly. “Every thing we have he can command, and 
Major Dunwoodie has despatched an express for his sister.” 25 
“His sister!” echoed the practitioner, with a look of 
particular meaning; “if the Major has sent for her, she 
will come.” 

“Her brother’s danger would induce her, one would 
imagine.” 3 ° 

“No doubt, madam,” continued the doctor, laconically, 
bowing low, and giving room to the ladies to pass. The 
words and the manner were not lost on the younger sister, 
in whose presence the name of Dunwoodie was never men- 
tioned unheeded. 35 

“Sir,” cried Dr. Sitgreaves, on entering the parlour, ad- 
dressing himself to the only coat of scarlet in the room, “I 
am advised you are in want of my aid. God send ’tis not 
Captain Lawton with whom you came in contact, in which 
case I may be too late.” ^ 4 ° 

“There must be some mistake, sir,” said Wellmere, 


102 


THE SPY 


haughtily; “it was a surgeon that Major Dunwoodie was 
to send me, and not an old woman.” 

“’Tis Dr. Sitgreaves,” said Henry Wharton, quickly, 
though with difficulty suppressing a laugh; “the multitude 
5 of his engagements, to-day, has prevented his usual atten- 
tion to his attire.” 

“Your pardon, sir,” added Wellmere, very ungraciously 
proceeding to lay aside his coat, and exhibit what he called 
a wounded arm. 

lo “If, sir,” said the surgeon, dryly, “the degrees of Edin- 
burgh — walking your London hospitals — amputating 
some hundreds of limbs — operating on the human frame 
in every shape that is warranted by the lights of science, a 
clear conscience, and the commission of the Continental 
15 Congress, can make a surgeon, I am one.” 

“Your pardon, sir,” repeated the Colonel, stiffiy. “Cap- 
tain Wharton has accounted for my error.” 

“For which I thank Captain Wharton,” said the sur- 
geon, proceeding coolly to arrange his amputating instru- 
20 ments, with a formality that made the Colonel’s blood run 
cold. “Where are you hurt, sir? What! is it then this 
scratch in your shoulder? In what manner might you 
have received this wound, sir?” 

“From the sword of a rebel dragoon,” said the Colonel, 
25 with emphasis. 

“Never. Even the gentle George Singleton would not 
have breathed on you so harmlessly.” He took a piece of 
sticking-plaster from his pocket, and applied it to the part. 
“There, sir; that will answer your purpose, and I am 
30 certain it is all that is required of me.” 

“What do you take to be my purpose, then, sir?” 

“To report yourself wounded in your despatches,” re- 
plied the doctor, with great steadiness; “and you may 
say that an old woman dressed your hurts — for if one did 
35 not, one ea.sily might 1 ” 

“Very extraordinary language,” muttered the English- 
man. 

Here Captain Wharton interfered; and, by explaining 
the mistake of Colonel Wellmere to proceed from his irri- 
4 otated mind and pain of body, he in part succeeded in 
mollifying the insulted practitioner, who consented to look 


THE SPY 


103 


further into the hurts of the other. They were chiefly 
bruises from his fall, to which Sitgreaves made some hasty 
applications, and withdrew. 

The horse, having taken their required refreshment, pre- 
pared to fall back to their intended position, and it be- 5 
came incumbent on Dunwoodie to arrange the disposal of 
his prisoners. Sitgreaves he determined to leave in the 
cottage of Mr. Wharton, in attendance on Captain Single- 
ton. Henry came to him with a request that Colonel Well- 
mere might also be left behind, under his parole, until the 10 
troops marched higher into the country. To this the 
Major cheerfully assented ; and as all the rest of the prisoners 
were of the vulgar herd, they were speedily collected, and, 
under the care of a strong guard, ordered to the interior. 
The dragoons soon after marched; and the guides, separat- 15 
ing in small parties, accompanied by patroles from the 
horse, spread themselves across the country, in such a 
manner as to make a chain of sentinels from the waters 
of the Sound to those of the Hudson.® 

Dunwoodie had lingered in front of the cottage, after he 20 
paid his parting compliments, with an unwillingness to re- 
turn, that he thought proceeded from his solicitude for his 
wounded friends. The heart which has not become callous, 
soon sickens with the glory that has been purchased with 
a waste of human life. Peyton Dunwoodie, left to him- 25 
self, and no longer excited by the visions which youthful 
ardour had kept before him throughout the day, began to 
feel there were other ties than those which bound the sol- 
dier within the rigid rules of honour. He did not waver in 
his duty, yet he felt how strong was the temptation. His 3° 
blood had ceased to flow with the impulse created by the 
battle. The stern expression of his eye gradually gave 
place to a look of softness; and his reflections on the vic- 
tory brought with them no satisfaction that compensated 
for the sacrifices by which it had been purchased. While 35 
turning his last lingering gaze on the Locusts, he remem- 
bered only that it contained all that he most valued. The 
friend of his youth was a prisoner, under circumstances 
that endangered both life and honour. The gentle com- 
panion of his toils, who could throw around the rude en- 4 ° 
joyments of a soldier the graceful mildness of peace, lay a 


104 


THE SPY 


bleeding victim to his success. The image of the maid 
who had held, during the day, a disputed sovereignty in 
his bosom, again rose to his view with a loveliness that 
banished her rival, glory, from his mind. 

5 The last lagging trooper of the corps had already disap- 
peared behind the northern hill, and the Major unwillingly 
turned his horse in the same direction. Frances, impelled 
by a restless inquietude, now timidly ventured on the 
piazza of the cottage. The day had been mild and clear, 
lo and the sun was shining brightly in a cloudless sky. The 
tumult, which so lately disturbed the valley, was succeeded 
by the stillness of death, and the fair scene before her looked 
as if it had never been marred by the passions of men. 
One solitary cloud, the collected smoke of the contest, 
15 hung over the field; and this was gradually dispersing, 
leaving no vestige of the conflict above the peaceful graves 
of its victims. All the conflicting feelings, all the tumultu- 
ous circumstances of the eventful day, appeared like the 
deceptions of a troubled vision. Frances turned, and 
20 caught a glimpse of the retreating figure of him who had 
been so conspicuous an actor in the scene, and the illusion 
vanished. She recognised her lover, and, with the truth, 
came other recollections that drove her to the room, with 
a heart as sad as that which Dunwoodie himself bore from 
25 the valley. 


CHAPTER IX 


A moment gazed adown the dale, 

A moment snuff’d the tainted gale, 

A moment listen’d to the cry, 

That thicken’d as the chase drew nigh. 

Then, as the headmost foe appear’d 
With one brave bound the copse he clear’d. 

And, stretching forward free and far. 

Sought the wild heaths of Uam-Var. 

Walter Scott. 

^ The party under Captain Lawton had watched the re- 
tiring foe at his boats with the most unremitting vigilance, 
without finding any fit opening for a charge. The experi- 
enced successor of Colonel Wellmere knew too well the 
power of his enemy to leave the uneven surface of the 
heights, until compelled to descend to the level of the 
water. Before he attempted this hazardous movement, he 
threw his men into a compact square, with its outer edges 
bristling with bayonets. In this position, the impatient 
trooper well understood that brave men could never be 
assailed by cavalry with success, and he was reluctantly 
obliged to hover near them, without seeing any opportunity 
of stopping their slow but steady march to the beach. A 
small schooner, which had been their convoy from the 
city, lay with her guns bearing on the place of. embarka- 
tion. Against this combination of force and discipline, 
Lawton had sufficient prudence to see it would be folly to 
contend, and the English were suffered to embark without 
molestation. The dragoons lingered on the shore till the 
last moment, and then they reluctantly commenced their 
own retreat back to the main body of the corps. 

The gathering mists of the evening had begun to darken 
the valley, as the detachment of Lawton made its re-ap- 
pearance, at its southern extremity. The march of the 
troops was slow, and their line extended, for the benefit 
of ease. In the front rode the Captain, side by side with 

105 


5 

10 

15 

20 

25 


106 


THE SPY 


his senior subaltern, apparently engaged in close conference, 
while the rear was brought up by a young cornet, humming 
an air, and thinking of the sweets of a straw bed after the 
fatigues of a hard dray’s duty. 

5 ‘‘Then it struck you too?” said the Captain. “The 
instant I placed my eyes on her, I remembered the face; 
it is one not easily forgotten. By my faith, Tom, the girl 
does no discredit to the Major’s taste.” 

“She would do honour to the corps,” replied the Lieu- 
lo tenant, with some warmth; “those blue eyes might easily 
win a man to gentler employments than this trade of ours. 

In sober truth, I can easily imagine, such a girl might 1 
tempt even me to quit the broadsword and saddle, for a ] 
darning-needle and pillion.” I 

15 “Mutiny, sir, mutiny,” cried the other, laughing; “what, | 
you, Tom Mason, dare to rival the gay, admired, and withal I 
rich. Major Dunwoodie in his love! You, a lieutenant of | 
cavalry, with but one horse, and he none of the best 1 
whose captain is as tough as a peperage log,® and has as , 
20 many lives as a cat.” I 

“Faith,” said the subaltern, smiling in his turn, “the log I 
may yet be split, and Grimalkin® lose his lives, if you often | 
charge as madly as you did this morning. What think j 
you of many raps from such a beetle as laid you on your j 
25 back to-day ?” | 

“Ah! don’t mention it, my good Tom; the thought \ 
makes my head ache,” replied the other, shrugging up his i 
shoulders; “it is what I call forestalling night.” 

“The night of death?” 

30 “No, sir, the night that follows day. I saw myriads of 
stars, things which should hide their faces in the presence of | 
the lordly sun. I do think nothing but this thick cap I 
saved me for your comfort a little longer, maugre the cat’s ! 
lives.” j 

35 “I have much reason to be obliged to the cap,” said i 
Mason, dryly; “that or the skull must have had a reason- j 
able portion of thickness, I admit.” 1 

“Come, come, Tom, you are a licensed joker, so I’ll not ! 
feign anger with you,” returned the Captain, good-hu- 
4 omouredly; “but Singleton’s lieutenant, I am fearful, will 
fare better than yourself for this day’s service.” 


THE SPY 


107 


“I believe both of us will be spared the pain of receiv- 
ing promotion purchased by the death of a comrade and 
friend,” observed Mason, kindly; ‘‘it was reported that 
Sitgreaves said he would live.” 

“From my soul I hope so,” exclaimed Lawton; “for a 5 
beardless face, that boy carries the stoutest heart I have 
ever met with. It surprises me, however, that, as we both 
fell at the same instant, the men behaved so well.” 

“For the compliment, I might thank you,” cried the 
Lieutenant with a laugh; “ but modesty forbids ; I did my i<? 
best to stop them, but without success.” 

“Stop them!” roared the Captain; “would you stop 
men in the middle of a charge?” 

“I thought they were going the wrong way,” answered 
the subaltern. 1 5 

“Ah 1 our fall drove them to the right about?” 

“It was either your fall, or apprehensions of their own; 
until the Major rallied us, we were in admirable disorder.” 

“Dunwoodie! the Major was on the crupper of the 
Dutchman.” 20 

“Ah! but he managed to get off the crupper of the 
Dutchman. He came in, at half-speed, with the other two 
troops, and riding between us and the enemy, with that 
imperative way he has when roused, brought us in line in 
the twinkling of an eye. Then it was,” added the Lieu- 25 
tenant, with animation, “that we sent John Bull to the 
bushes. Oh ! it was a sweet charge — heads and tails, 
until we were upon them.” 

“The devil ! What a sight I missed !” 

“You slept through it all.” 3 ° 

“Yes,” returned the other, with a sigh; “it was all lost 
to me and poor George Singleton. But, Tom, what will 
George’s sister say to this fair-haired maiden, in yonder 
white building?” 

“Hang herself in her garters,” said the subaltern. “I 35 
owe a proper respect to my superiors, but two such angels 
are more than justly falls to the share of one man, unless 
he be a Turk or a Hindoo.” 

“Yes, yes,” said the Captain, quickly, “the Major is ever 
preaching morality to the youngsters, but he is a sly 40 
fellow in the main. Do you observe how fond he is of the 


108 


THE SPY 


cross roads above this valley? Now, if I were to halt the 
troops twice in the same place, you would all swear there 
was a petticoat in the wind.” 

“You are well known to the corps.” 

5 “Well, Tom, a slanderous propensity is incurable — but,” 
stretching forward his body in the direction he was gazing, 
as if to aid him in distinguishing objects through the dark- 
ness, “what animal is moving through the field on our 
right?” 

lo “’Tis a man,” said Mason, looking intently at the sus- 
picious object. 

“By his hump ’tis a dromedary!” added the Captain, | 
eyeing it keenly. Wheeling his horse suddenly from the ! 
highway, he exclaimed — “ Harvey Birch 1 — take him, 

15 dead or alive!” 

Mason and a few of the leading dragoons only under- 
stood the sudden cry, but it was heard throughout the line. ! 
A dozen of the men, with the Lieutenant at their head, | 
followed the impetuous Lawton, and their speed threatened 
20 the pursued with a sudden termination of the race. 

Birch prudently kept his position on the rock, where he j 
had been seen by the passing glance of Henry Wharton, ' 
until evening had begun to shroud the surrounding objects 
in darkness. From this height he had seen all the events . 
25 of the day as they occurred. He had watched, with a I 
beating heart, the departure of the troops under Dun- r 
woodie, and with difficulty had curbed his impatience until i 
the obscurity of night should render his moving free from 
danger. He had not, however, completed a fourth of his ^ 
30 way to his own residence, when his quick ear distinguished 
the tread of the approaching horse. Trusting to the in- ' 
creasing darkness, he determined to persevere. By crouch- ; 
ing and moving quickly along the surface of the ground, 
he hoped yet to escape unseen. Captain Lawton was too \ 
35 much engrossed with the foregoing conversation to suffer s 
his eyes to indulge in their usual wandering; and the ped- 
ler, perceiving by the voices that the enemy he most feared ^ 
had passed, yielded to his impatience, and stood erect, in r 
order to make greater progress. The moment his body ! 
40 arose above the shadow of the ground, it was seen and i 
the chase commenced. For a single instant, Birch was 1 


THE SPY 


109 


helpless, his blood curdling in his veins at the imminence of 
the danger, and his legs refusing their natural and neces- 
sary office. But it was only for a moment. Casting his 
pack where he stood, and instinctively tightening the belt 
he wore, the pedler betook himself to flight. He knew 5 
that by bringing himself in a line with his pursuers and the 
wood, his form would be lost to sight. This he soon effected, 
and he was straining every nerve to gain the wood itself, 
when several horsemen rode by him but a short distance 
on his left, and cut him off from this place of refuge. The 10 
pedler threw himself on the ground as they came near 
him, and was passed unseen. But delay, now, became too 
dangerous for him to remain in that position. He accord- 
ingly arose, and still keeping in the shadow of the wood, 
along the skirts of which he heard voices crying to each 15 
other to be watchful, he ran with incredible speed in a 
parallel line, but in an opposite direction, to the march of 
the dragoons. 

The confusion of the chase had been heard by the whole 
of the men, though none distinctly understood the order 20 
of Lawton but those who followed. The remainder were 
lost in doubt as to the duty that was required of them; 
and the aforesaid cornet was making eager enquiries of the 
trooper near him on the subject, when a man, at a short 
distance in his rear, crossed the road at a single bound. 25 
At the same instant, the stentorian voice of Lawton rang 
through the valley, shouting — 

“Harvey Birch — take him, dead or alive !” 

Fifty pistols lighted the scene, and the bullets whistled 
in every direction round the head of the devoted pedler. 30 
A feeling of despair seized his heart, and in the bitterness 
of that moment he exclaimed — 

“Hunted like a beast of the forest !” 

He felt life and its accompaniments to be a burden, and 
was about to yield himself to his enemies. Nature, how- 35 
ever, prevailed. If taken, there was great reason to ap- 
prehend that he would not be honoured with the forms of 
a trial, but that most probably the morning sun would 
witness his ignominious execution; for he had already 
been condemned to death, and had only escaped that fate 40 
by stratagem. These considerations, with the approach- 


110 


THE SPY 


ing footsteps of his pursuers, roused him to new exertions. 
He again fled before them, A fragment of a wall, that had 
withstood the ravages made by war in the adjoining fences 
of wood, fortunately crossed his path. He hardly had time 
5 to throw his exhausted limbs over this barrier, before 
twenty of his enemies reached its opposite side. Their 
horses refused to take the leap in the dark, and amid the 
confusion of the rearing chargers, and the execrations of 
their riders, Birch was enabled to gain a sight of the base 
lo of the hill, on whose summit was a place of perfect security. 
The heart of the pedler now beat high with hope, when 
the voice of Captain Lawton again rang in his ears, shout- 
ing to his men to make room. The order was obeyed, and 
the fearless trooper rode at the wall at the top of his horse’s 
15 speed, plunged the rowels in his charger, and flew over the 
obstacle in safety. The triumphant hurrahs of the men, 
and the thundering tread of the horse, too plainly assured 
the pedler of the emergency of his danger. He was nearly 
exhausted, and his fate no longer seemed doubtful. 

20 “Stop, or die!” was uttered above his head, and in 
fearful proximity to his ears. 

Harvey stole a glance over his shoulder, and saw, within 
a bound of him, the man he most dreaded. By the light 
of the stars he beheld the uplifted arm and the threaten- 
25 ing sabre. Fear, exhaustion, and despair, seized his heart, 
and the intended victim fell at the feet of the dragoon. 
The horse of Lawton struck the prostrate pedler, and both 
steed and rider came violently to the earth. 

As quick as thought, Birch was on his feet again, with 
30 the sword of the discomfited dragoon in his hand. Ven- 
geance seems but too natural to human passions. There 
are few who have not felt the seductive pleasure of making 
our injuries recoil on their authors; and yet there are some 
who know how much sweeter it is to return good for evil. 

35 All the wrongs of the pedler shone on his brain with a 
dazzling brightness. For a moment the demon within him 
prevailed, and Birch brandished the powerful weapon in 
the air; in the next, it fell harmless on the reviving but 
helpless trooper. The pedler vanished up the side of the 
40 friendly rock. 

“Help Captain Lawton, there!” cried Mason, as he rode 


THE SPY 


111 


up, followed by a dozen of his men; “and some of you 
dismount with me, and search these rocks; the villain lies 
here concealed.” 

“Hold!” roared the discomfited Captain, raising him- 
self with difficulty on his feet; “if one of you dismount, 5 
he dies. Tom, my good fellow, you will help me to straddle 
Roanoke again.” 

The astonished subaltern complied in silence, while the 
wondering dragoons remained as fixed in their saddles, as 
if they composed part of the animals they rode. 10 

“You are much hurt, I fear,” said Mason, with some- 
thing of condolence in his manner, as they re-entered the 
highway, and biting off the end of a segar for the want of 
a better quality of tobacco. 

“Something so, I do believe,” replied the Captain, catch- 15 
ing his breath, and speaking with difficulty; “I wish our 
bone-setter was at hand, to examine into the state of my 
ribs.” 

“Sitgreaves is left in attendance on Captain Singleton, 
at the house of Mr. Wharton.” 20 

“Then there I halt for the night, Tom. These rude times 
must abridge ceremony; besides, you may remember the 
old gentleman professed a kinsman’s regard for the corps. 

I can never think of passing so good a friend without a 
halt.” 25 

“ And I will lead the troop to the Four Corners ; if we all 
halt there, we shall breed a famine in the land.” 

“A condition I never desire to be placed in. The idea of 
that graceful spinster’s cakes is no bad solace for twenty- 
four hours in the hospital.” 3 ° 

“Oh! you won’t die if you can think of eating,” said 
Mason, with a laugh. 

“ I should surely die if I could not,” observed the Captain, 
gravely. 

“Captain Lawton,” said the orderly of his troop, riding to 35 
the side of his commanding officer, “we are now passing the 
house of the pedler spj' ; is it your pleasure that we burn it ? ” 

“No!” roared the Captain, in a voice that startled the 
disappointed sergeant; “are you an incendiary? would you 
burn a house in cold blood ? let but a spark approach, and 4 ° 
the hand that carries it will never light another.” 


112 


THE SPY 


“Zounds!”® muttered the sleepy cornet in the rear, as 
he was nodding on his horse, “there is life in the Captain, 
notwithstanding his tumble,” 

Lawton and Mason rode on in silence, the latter ruminat- 
5 ing on the wonderful change produced in his commander by 
his fall, when they arrived opposite to the gate before the 
residence of Mr. Wharton. The troop continued its march; 
but the Captain and his Lieutenant dismounted, and, 
followed by the servant of the former, they proceeded slowly 
lo to the door of the cottage. 

Colonel Wellmere had already sought a retreat in his own 
room; Mr. Wharton and his son were closeted by them- 
selves; and the ladies were administering the refreshments 
of the tea-table to the surgeon of the dragoons, who had 
15 seen one of his patients in his bed, and the other happily 
enjoying the comforts of a sweet sleep. A few natural 
enquiries from Miss Peyton had opened the soul of the 
doctor, who knew every individual of her extensive family | 
connection in Virginia, and who even thought it possible 1 
20 that he had seen the lady herself. The amiable spinster | 
smiled as she felt it to be improbable that she should ever j 
have met her new acquaintance before, and not remember 
his singularities. It, however, greatly relieved the ern- I 
barrassment of their situation, and something like a dis- 
25 course was maintained between them; the nieces were only 
listeners, nor could the aunt be said to be much more. 

“As I was observing, Miss Peyton, it was merely the 
noxious vapours of the low lands that rendered the plan- | 
tation of your brother an unfit residence for man; but 
30 quadrupeds were — ” 

“Bless me, what’s that?” said Miss Peyton, turning pale 
at the report of the pistols fired at Birch. 

“It sounds prodigiously like the concussion on the 
atmosphere made by the explosion of fire-arms,” said the 
35 surgeon, sipping his tea with great indifference. “I should j 
irnagine it to be the troop of Captain Lawton returning, 
did I not know the Captain never uses the pistol, and that 
he dreadfully abuses the sabre.” 

“Merciful providence!” exclaimed the agitated maiden, 

40 “he would not injure one with it certainly.” 

“Injure!” repeated the other quickly: “it is certain 


THE SPY 


113 


death, madam; the most random blows imaginable; all 
that I can say to him will have no effect.’’ 

‘^But Captain LaVton is the officer we saw this morning, 
and is surely your friend,” said Frances, hastily, observing 
her aunt to be seriously alarmed. 5 

“I find no fault with his want of friendship; the man is 
well enough if he would learn to cut scientifically. All 
trades, madam, ought to be allowed to live; but what is 
to become of a surgeon, if his patients are dead before he 
sees them!” 10 

The doctor continued haranguing on the probability and 
improbability of its being the returning troop, until a loud 
knock at the door gave new alarm to the ladies. Instinc- 
tively laying his hand on a small saw, that had been his 
companion for the whole day, in the vain expectation of an 15 
amputation, the surgeon, coolly assuring the ladies that he 
would stand between them and danger, proceeded in person 
to answer to the summons. 

“Captain Lawton!” exclaimed the surgeon, as he beheld 
the trooper leaning on the arm of his subaltern, and with 20 
difficulty crossing the threshold, 

“ Ah ! my dear bone-setter, is it you ? You are here very 
fortunately to inspect my carcass; but do lay aside that 
rascally saw !” 

A few words from Mason explained the nature and manner 25 
of his Captain’s hurts, and Miss Peyton cheerfully accorded 
the required accommodations. While the room intended 
for the trooper was getting ready, and the doctor was giving 
certain portentous orders, the Captain was invited to rest 
himself in the parlour. On the table was a dish of more 30 
substantial food than ordinarily adorned the afternoon’s 
repast, and it soon caught the attention of the dragoons. 
Miss Peyton, recollecting that they had probably made 
their only meal that day at her own table, kindly invited 
them to close it with another. The offer required no press- 35 
ing, and in a few minutes the two were comfortably seated, 
and engaged in an employment that was only interrupted 
by an occasional wry face from the Captain, who moved his 
body in evident pain. These interruptions, however, 
interfered but little with the principal business in hand ; and 40 
the Captain had got happily through with this important 


I 


114 


THE SPY 


duty, before the surgeon returned to announce all things 
ready for his accommodation, in the room above stairs, j 

“Eating!” cried the astonished physician; “Captain 
Lawton, do you wish to die?” 

5 “I have no particular ambition that way,” said the 
trooper, rising, and bowing good-night to the ladies, “and, 
therefore, have been providing the materials necessary 
to preserve life.” 

The surgeon muttered his dissatisfaction, while he fol- 
io lowed Mason and the Captain from the apartment. 

Every house in America had, at that day, what was 
emphatically called its best room, and this had been allotted, 
by the unseen influence of Sarah, to Colonel Wellmere. 
The down counterpane, which a clear frosty night would 
15 render extremely grateful over bruised limbs, decked the 
English officer’s bed. A massive silver tankard, richly 
embossed with the Wharton arms, held the beverage he 
was to drink during the night; while beautiful vessels of 
china performed the same office for the two American 
20 captains. Sarah was certainly unconscious of the silent 
preference she had been giving to the English officer; and 
it is equally certain, that but for his hurts, bed, tankard, 
and every thing but the beverage, would have been matters 
of indifference to Captain Lawton, half of whose nights were 
25 spent in his clothes, and not a few of them in the saddle. 
After taking possession, however, of a small but very com- 
fortable room. Doctor Sitgreaves proceeded to enquire 
into the state of his injuries. He had begun to pass his 
hand over the body of his patient, when the latter cried 
30 impatiently — 

“Sitgreaves, do me the favour to lay that rascally saw 
aside, or I shall have recourse to my sabre in self-defence; 
the sight of it makes my blood cold.” 

“Captain Lawton, for a man who has so often exposed 
35 life and limb, you are unaccountably afraid of a very useful 
instrument.” 

“Heaven keep me from its use,” said the trooper, with a 
shrug. 

“You would not despise the lights of science, nor refuse 
40 surgical aid, because this saw might be necessary?” 

“I would.” 


THE SPY 


115 


“You would !” 

“Yes; you shall never joint me like a quarter of beef, 
while I have life to defend myself,” cried the resolute dra- 
goon. “But I grow sleepy; are any of my ribs broken? ” 

“No.” 5 

“Any of my bones?” 

“No.” 

“Tom, I’ll thank you for that pitcher.” As he ended his 
draught, he very deliberately turned his back on his com- 
panions, and good-naturedly cried — “Good-night, Mason; lo 
good-night, Galen.” ° 

Captain Lawton entertained a profound respect for the 
surgical abilities of his comrade, but he was very sceptical 
on the subject of administering internally for the ailings 
of the human frame. With a full stomach, a stout heart, 15 
and a clear conscience, he often maintained that a man 
might bid defiance to the world and its vicissitudes. Na- 
ture provided him with the second, and, to say the truth, 
he strove manfully himself to keep up the other two requi- 
sites in his creed. It was a favourite maxim with him, that 20 
the last thing death assailed was the eyes, and next to the 
last, the jaws. This he interpreted to be a clear expression 
of the intention of nature, that every man might regulate, 
by his own volition, whatever was to be admitted into the 
sanctuary of his mouth; consequently, if the guest proved 25 
unpalatable, he had no one to blame but himself. The 
surgeon, who was well acquainted with these views of his 
patient, beheld him, as he cavalierly turned his back on 
Mason and himself, with a commiserating contempt, re- 
placed in their leathern repository the phials he had ex- 3° 
hibited, with a species of care that was allied to veneration, 
gave the saw, as he concluded, a whirl of triumph, and 
departed, without condescending to notice the compliment 
of the trooper. Mason, finding, by the breathing of the 
Captain, that his own good-night would be unheard, has- 35 
tened to pay his respects to the ladies — after which he 
mounted, and followed the troop at the top of his horse’s 
speed. 


CHAPTER X 


On some fond breast the parting soul relies, 

Some pious drops the closing eye requires, 

E’en from the tomb the voice of nature cries. 

E’en in our ashes live their wonted fires. 

Gray. 

The possessions of Mr. Wharton extended to some dis- 
tance on each side of the house in which he dwelt, and most 
of his land was unoccupied. A few scattered dwellings were 
to be seen in different parts of his domains, but they were 
5 fast falling to decay, and were untenanted. The proximity 
of the country to the contending armies had nearly banished 
the pursuits of agriculture from the land. It was useless 
for the husbandman to devote his time, and the labour of 
his hands, to obtain overflowing garners, that the first 
lo foraging party would empty. None tilled the earth with 
any other view than to provide the scanty means of sub- 
sistence, except those who were placed so near to one of 
the adverse parties as to be safe from the inroads of the light 
troops of the other. To these the war offered a golden 
15 harvest, more especially to such as enjoyed the benefits of 
an access to the royal army. Mr. Wharton did not require 
the use of his lands for the purposes of subsistence; and he 
willingly adopted the guarded practice of the day, limiting 
his attention to such articles as were soon to be consumed 
20 within his own walls, or could be easily secreted from the 
prying eyes of the foragers. In consequence, the ground 
on which the action was fought had not a single inhabited 
building, besides the one belonging to the father of Harvey 
Birch. This house stood between the place where the cav- 
25 airy had met, and that where the charge had been made 
on the party of Wellmere. 

To Katy Haynes it had been a day fruitful of incidents. 
The prudent housekeeper had kept her political feelings in 
a state of rigid neutrality; her own friends had espoused 
30 the cause of the country, but the maiden herself never lost 

116 


THE SPY 


117 


sight of that important moment, when, like females of more 
illustrious hopes, she might be required to sacrifice her love 
of country on the altar of domestic harmony. And yet, 
notwithstanding all her sagacity, there were moments when 
the good woman had grievous doubts into which scale she 5 
ought to throw the weight of her eloquence, in order to be 
certain of supporting the cause favoured by the pedler. 
There was so much that was equivocal in his movements 
and manner, that often, when, in the privacy of their house- 
hold, she was about to utter a philippic® on Washington 10 
and his followers, discretion sealed her mouth, and distrust 
beset her mind. In short, the whole conduct of the mys- 
terious being she studied was of a character to distract the 
opinions of one who took a more enlarged view of men and 
life than came within the competency of his housekeeper. 15 
The battle of the Plains ° had taught the cautious Wash- 
ington the advantages his enemy possessed in organisation, 
arms, and discipline. These were difficulties to be mastered 
by his own vigilance and care. Drawing off his troops to 
the heights, in the northern part of the county, he had 20 
bidden defiance to the attacks of the royal army, and Sir 
William Howe fell back to the enjoyment of his barren con- 
quest — a deserted city. Never afterwards did the oppos- 
ing armies make the trial of strength within the limits of 
West-Chester; yet hardly a day passed, that the partisans 25 
did not make their inroads; or a sun rise, that the inhabi- 
tants were spared the relation of excesses which the preced- 
ing darkness had served to conceal. Most of the move- 
ments of the pedler were made at the hours which others 
allotted to repose. The evening sun would frequently 30 
leave him at one extremity of the county, and the morning 
find him at the other. His pack was his never-failing com- 
panion; and there were those who closely studied him, in 
his moments of traffic, and thought his only purpose was 
the accumulation of gold. He would be often seen near 35 
the Highlands, with a body bending under its load; and 
again near the Harlem River, travelling with lighter steps, 
with his face towards the setting sun. But these glances 
at him were uncertain and fleeting. The intermediate time 
no eye could penetrate. For months he disappeared, 40 
and no traces of his course were ever known. 


118 


THE SPY 


Strong parties held the heights of Harlem, and the north- I 
ern end of Manhattan Island was bristling with the bayonets j 
of the English sentinels, yet the pedler glided among them j 
unnoticed and uninjured. His approaches to the American 
5 lines were also frequent; but generally so conducted as to 
baffle pursuit. Many a sentinel, placed in the gorges of 
the mountains, spoke of a strange figure that had been seen 
gliding by them in the mists of the evening. These stories 
reached the ears of the officers, and, as we have related, in 
lo two instances the trader had fallen into the hands of the 
Americans. The first time he had escaped from Lawton, 
shortly after his arrest; but the second he was condemned 
to die. On the morning of his intended execution, the cage 
was opened, but the bird had flown. This extraordinary 
15 escape had been made from the custody of a favourite officer 
of Washington, and sentinels who had been thought worthy 
to guard the person of the Commander-in-chief. Bribery 
and treason could not be imputed to men so well esteemed, 
and the opinion gained ground among the common soldiery, I 
20 that the pedler had dealings with the dark one.° Katy, | 
however, always repelled this opinion with indignation; 1 
for within the recesses of her own bosom, the housekeeper, 
in ruminating on the events, concluded that the evil spirit 1 
did not pay in gold. Nor, continued the wary spinster in 
25 her cogitations, does Washington; paper and promises 
were all that the leader of the American troops could dis- | 
pense to his servants. After the alliance with France, when 
silver became more abundant in the country, although the | 
scrutinising eyes of Katy never let any opportunity of 1 
30 examining into the deer-skin purse pass unimproved, she 
was never able to detect the image of Louis intruding into 
the presence of the well-known countenance of George HI. 
In short, the secret hoard of Harvey sufficiently showed 
in its contents that all its contributions had been received 
35 from the British. 

The house of Birch had been watched at different times 
by the Americans, with a view to his arrest, but never with 
success; the reputed spy possessing a secret means of in- 
telligence, that invariably defeated their schemes. Once, 
40 when a strong body of the continental army held the Four 
Corners for a whole summer, orders had been received from 


THE SPY 


119 


Washington himself, never to leave the door of Harvey 
Birch unwatched. The command was rigidly obeyed, and 
during this long period the pedler was unseen; the detach- 
ment was withdrawn, and the following night Birch re- 
entered his dwelling. The father of Harvey had been greatly 5 
molested, in consequence of the suspicious character of the 
son. But, notwithstanding the most minute scrutiny 
into the conduct of the old man, no fact could be substan- 
tiated against him to his injury, and his property was too 
small to keep alive the zeal of patriots by profession. Its 10 
confiscation and purchase would not have rewarded their 
trouble. Age and sorrow were now about to spare him 
further molestation, for the lamp of life had been drained of 
its oil. The recent separation of the father and son had been 
painful, but they had submitted in obedience to what both 15 
thought a duty. The old man had kept his dying situation 
a secret from the neighbourhood, in the hope that he might 
still have the company of his child in his last moments. 
The confusion of the day, and his increasing dread that 
Harvey might be too late, helped to hasten the event he 20 
would fain arrest for a little while. As night set in, his 
illness increased to such a degree, that the dismayed house- 
keeper sent a truant boy, who had shut up himself with 
them, during the combat, to the Locusts, in quest of a com- 
panion to cheer her solitude. Csesar, alone, could be spared, 25 
and, loaded with eatables and cordials by the kind-hearted 
Miss Peyton, the black had been despatched on this duty. 
The dying man was past the use of medicines, and his 
chief anxiety seemed to centre in a meeting with his child. 

The noise of the chase had been heard by the group in the 30 
house, but its cause was not understood; and as both the 
black and Katy were apprised of the detachment of Ameri- 
can horse being below them, they supposed it to proceed 
from the return of that party. They heard the dragoons, 
as they moved slowly by the building; but in compli- 35 
ance with the prudent injunction of the black, the house- 
keeper forbore to indulge her curiosity. The old man had 
closed Jiis eyes, and his attendants believed him to be asleep. 
The house contained two large rooms, and as many small 
ones. One of the former served for kitchen and sitting- 40 
room; in the other lay the father of Birch; of the latter. 


120 


THE SPY 


one was the sanctuary of the vestal, and the other contained 
the stock of provisions. A huge chimney of stone rose in 
the centre, serving, of itself, for a partition between the 
larger rooms; and fire-places of corresponding dimensions 
5 were in each apartment. A bright flame was burning in 
that of the common room, and within the very jambs of 
its monstrous jaws sat Caesar and Katy, at the time of which 
we write. The African was impressing his caution on the 
housekeeper, and commenting on the general danger of 
lo indulging an idle curiosity. 

“Best nebber tempt a Satan,” said Caesar, rolling up his 
eyes till the- whites glistened by the glare of the fire; “I 
berry like heself to lose an ear for carrying a little bit of a 
letter; dere much mischief come of curiosity. If dere 
15 had nebber been a man curious to see Africa, dere would 
be no coulour people out of deir own country : but I wish 
Harvey get back.” 

“ It is very disregardful in him to be away at such a time,” 
said Katy, imposingly. “Suppose now his father wanted 
20 to make his last will in the testament, who is there to do 
so solemn and awful an act for him? Harvey is a very 
wasteful and a very disregardful man !” 

“Perhap he make him afore?” 

“It would not be a wonderment if he had,” returned the 
25 housekeeper; “he is whole days looking into the Bible.” 

“Then he read a berry good book,” said the black, sol- 
emnly, “Miss Fanny read in him to Dinah now and den.” 

“You are right, Caesar. The Bible is the best of books, 
and one that reads it as often as Harvey’s father should have 
30 the best of reasons for so doing. This is no more than 
common sense.” 

She rose from her seat, and stealing softly to a chest of 
drawers in the room of the sick man, she took from it a large 
Bible, heavily bound, and secured with strong clasps of 
35 brass, with which she returned to the negro. The volume 
was eagerly opened, and they proceeded instantly to exam- 
ine its pages. Katy was far from an expert scholar, and to 
Caesar the characters were absolutely strangers. For some 
time the housekeeper was occupied in finding out the word 
40 Matthew, in which she had no sooner succeeded than she 
pointed out the word, with great complacency, to the at- 
tentive Caesar. 


THE SPY 


121 


“Berry we)l, now look him t’rough,” said the black, peep- 
ing over the housekeeper’s shoulder, as he held a long, lank 
candle of yellow tallow, in such a manner as to throw its 
feeble light on the volume. 

“Yes, but I must begin with the very beginning of the 5 
book,” replied the other, turning the leaves carefully back, 
until, moving two at once, she lighted upon a page covered 
with writing. “Here,” said the housekeeper, shaking with 
the eagerness of expectation, “here are the very words them- 
selves; now I would give the world itself to know whom 10 
he has left the big silver shoe-buckles to.” 

“Read ’em,” said Caesar, laconically. 

“And the black walnut drawers; for Harvey could never 
want furniture of that quality, as'long as he is a bachelor I” 

“Why he no want ’em as well as he fader?” 15 

“And the six silver table-spoons; Harvey always uses 
the iron !” 

“P’r’ap he say, widout so much talk,” returned the 
sententious black, pointing one of his crooked and dingy 
fingers at the open volume. 20 

Thus repeatedly advised, and impelled by her own curi- 
osity, Katy began to read. Anxious to come to the part 
which most interested herself, she dipped at once into the 
centre of the subject. 

^‘Chester Birch, horn September Is^, 1755,” — read the 25 
spinster, with a deliberation that did no great honour to 
her scholarship. 

“Well, what he gib him?” 

“Abigail Birch, born July 12th, 1757,” — continued the 
housekeeper, in the same tone. 3 ° 

“I t’ink he ought to gib her ’e spoon.” 

“June 1st, 1760. On this awful day, the judgment of an 
offended God lighted on my house ; ” — a heavy groan from 
the adjoining room made the spinster instinctively close 
the volume, and Csesar, for a moment, shook with fear. 35 
Neither possessed sufficient resolution to go and examine 
the condition of the sufferer, but his heavy breathing con- 
tinued as usual. Katy dare not, however, reopen the Bible, 
and carefully securing its clasps, it was laid on the table in 
silence. Caesar took his chair again, and after looking 4° 
timidly round the room, remarked — 


122 


THE SPY 


“I t’ought he time war’ come!” 

“No,” said Katy, solemnly, “he will live till the tide is 
out, or the first cock crows in the morning.” 

“Poor man!” continued the black, nestling still farther 
5 into the chimney-corner, “I hope he lay quiet after he die.” 

“ ’Twould be no astonishment to me if he didn’t; for they 
say an unquiet life makes an uneasy grave.” 

“Johnny Birch a berry good man in he way. All man- 
kind can’t be a minister; for if he do, who would be a con- 
lo gregation?” 

“Ah ! Caesar, he is good only who does good — can you 
tell me why honestly gotten gold should be hidden in the 
bowels of the earth !” 

“Grach! — I t’ink it ihust be to keep t’e Skinner from 
15 findin’ him; if he know where he be, why don’t he dig 
him up?” 

“There may be reasons not comprehendible to you,” 
said Katy, moving her chair so that her clothes covered the 
charmed stone, underneath which lay the secret treasures 
20 of the pedler, unable to refrain speaking of that which she 
would have been very unwilling to reveal; “but a rough 
outside often holds a smooth inside.” Caesar stared around 
the building, unable to fathom the hidden meaning of his 
companion, when his roving eyes suddenly became fixed, 
25 and his teeth chattered with affright. The change in the 
countenance of the black was instantly perceived by Katy, 
and turning her face, she saw the pedler himself, standing 
within the door of the room. 

“Is he alive?” asked Birch, tremulously, and seemingly 
30 afraid to receive the answer. 

“Surely,” said Katy, rising hastily, and officiously offering 
her chair; “he must live till day, or till the tide is down.” 

Disregarding all but the fact that his father still lived, 
the pedler stole gently into the room of his dying parent. 
35 The tie which bound the father and son was of no ordinary 
kind. In the wide world they were all to each other. Had 
Katy but read a few lines farther in the record, she would 
have seen the sad tale of their misfortunes. At one blow 
competence and kindred had been swept from them, and 
40 from that day to the present hour, persecution and distress 
had followed their wandering steps. Approaching the bed’ 


THE SPY 


123 


side, Harvey leaned his body forward, and, in a voice nearly 
choked by his feelings, he whispered near the ear of the 
sick — 

“Father, do you know me?” 

The parent slowly opened his eyps, and a smile of satis- 5 
faction passed over his pallid features, leaving behind it the 
impression of death, more awful by the contrast. The 
pedler gave a restorative he had brought with him to the 
parched lips of the sick man, and for a few minutes new 
vigour seemed imparted to his frame. He spoke, but 10 
slowly, and with difficulty. Curiosity kept Katy silent; 
awe had the same effect on Caesar; and Harvey seemed 
hardly to breathe, as he listened to the language of the 
departing spirit. 

“My son,” said the father in a hollow voice, “God is as 15 
merciful as he is just : if I threw the cup of salvation from 
my lips when a youth, he graciously offers it to me in mine 
age. He has chastised to purify, and I go to join the spirits 
of our lost family. In a little while, my child, you will be 
alone. I know you too well not to foresee you will be a 20 
pilgrim through life. The bruised reed may endure, but 
it will never rise. You have that within you, Harvey, 
that will guide you aright; persevere, as you have begun, 
for the duties of life are never to be neglected — and” — 

A noise in the adjoining room interrupted the dying man, 25 
and the impatient pedler hastened to learn the cause, fol- 
lowed by Katy and the black. The first glance of his eye 
on the figure in the doorway told the trader but too well 
his errand, and the fate that probably awaited himself. 
-The intruder was a man still young in years, but his linea- 3° 
ments bespoke a mind long agitated by evil passions. His 
dress was of the meanest materials, and so ragged and 
unseemly, as to give him the appearance of studied poverty. 
His hair was prematurely whitened, and his sunken, lower- 
ing eye, avoided the bold, forward look of innocence. There 35 
was a restlessness in his movements, and an agitation in his 
manner, that proceeded from the workings of the foul spirit 
within him, and which was not less offensive to others than 
distressing to himself. This man was a well-known leader 
of one of those gangs of marauders who infested the county 40 
with a semblance of patriotism, and who were guilty of 


124 


THE SPY 


every grade of ofifence, from simple theft up to murder. 
Behind him stood several other figures clad in a similar 
manner, but whose countenances expressed nothing more 
than the indifference of brutal insensibility. They were all 
5 well armed with muskets and bayonets, and provided with 
the usual implements of foot-soldiers. Harvey knew resist- 
ance to be vain, and quietly submitted to their directions. 
In the twinkling of an eye both he and Csesar were stripped 
of their decent garments, and made to exchange clothes with 
lo two of the filthiest of the band. They were then placed in 
separate corners of the room, and, under the muzzles of the 
muskets, required faithfully to ansy^er such interrogatories 
as were put to them. 

“Where is your pack?'’ was the first question to thei 
IS pedler. j 

“Hear me,” said Birch, trembling with agitation; “in 
the next room is my father, now in the agonies of death; I 
let me go to him, receive his blessing, and close his eyes, 
and you shall have all — ay, all.” 

20 “Answer me as I put the questions, or this musket shall! 
send you to keep the old driveller company: — where is' 
your pack?” 

“I will tell you nothing, unless you let me go to my 
father,” said the pedler, resolutely. 

25 His persecutor raised his arm with a malicious sneer, 
and was about to execute his threat, when one of his com-j 
panions checked him. 

“What would you do?” he said, “you surely forget the 
reward. Tell us where are your goods, and you shall go 
30 to your father.” 

Birch complied instantly, and a man was despatched in 
quest of the booty; he soon returned, throwing the bundle 
on the floor, swearing it was as light as feathers. 

“Ay,” cried the leader, “there must be gold somewhere' 
35 for what it did contain. Give us your gold, Mr. Birch; 
we know you have it; you will not take continental, not 
you.” 

“You break your faith,” said Harvey. 

“Give us your gold,” exclaimed the other, furiously, 
40 pricking the pedler with his bayonet until the blood followed 
his pushes in streams. At this instant a slight movement^ 


THE SPY 


-125 


was heard in the adjoining room, and Harvey cried implor- 
ingly — 


all. 


Let me- 

yy 


“I swear you shall go then,” said the Skinner. 5 

‘‘Here, take the trash,” cried Birch, as he threw aside the 
purse, which he had contrived to conceal, notwithstanding 
the change in his garments. 

The robber raised it from the floor with a hellish laugh. 
“Ay, but it shall be to your father in heaven.” 10 

“Monster! have you no feeling, no faith, no honesty?” 
“To hear him, one would think there was not a 
rope around his neck already,” said the other, laughing. 
“There is no necessity for your being uneasy, Mr. Birch; 
if the old man gets a few hours the start of you in the 15 
journey, you will be sure to follow him before noon to- 
morrow.” 

This unfeeling communication had no effect on the pedler, 
who listened with gasping breath to every sound from the 
room of his parent, until he heard his own name spoken in 20 
the hollow, sepulchral tones of death. Birch could endure 
no more, but shrieking out — 

“Father ! hush — father ! I come — I come:” he darted 
by his keeper, and was the next moment pinned to the wall 
by the bayonet of another of the band. Fortunately, his 25 
quick motion had caused him to escape a thrust aimed at 
his life, and it was by his clothes only that he was confined. 

“No, Mr. Birch,” said the Skinner, “we know you too 
well for a slippery rascal, to trust you out of sight — your 
gold, your gold 1” 30 

“You have it,” said the pedler, writhing with agony. 

“Ay, we have the purse, but you have more purses. 
King George is a prompt paymaster, and you have done 
him many a piece of good service. Where is your hoard? 
without it you will never see your father.” 35 

“Remove the stone underneath the woman,” cried the 
pedler, eagerly — “remove the stone.” 

“He raves! he raves!” said Katy, instinctively moving 
her position to a different stone from the one on which she 
had been standing. In a moment it was torn from its bed, 40 
and nothing but earth was seen beneath. 


126 


THE SPY 


‘‘He raves! you have driven him from his right mind/’ 
continued the trembling spinster; “would any man in 
his senses keep gold under a hearth? ” 

“ Peace, babbling fool ! ” cried Harvey. “ Lift the corner 
5 stone, and you will find that which will make you rich, 
and me a beggar.” 

“ And then you will be despisable,” said the housekeeper, 
bitterly. “ A pedler without goods and without money is 
sure to be despisable.” 

IQ “There will be enough left to pay for his halter,” cried 
the Skinner, who was not slow to follow the instructions of 
Harvey, soon lighting upon a store of English guineas. 
The money was quickly transferred to a bag, notwithstand- 
ing the declarations of the spinster, that her dues were un- 
15 satisfied, and that, of right, ten of the guineas were her 
property. 

Delighted with a prize that greatly exceeded their expec- 
tations, the band prepared to depart, intending to take the 
pedler with them, in order to give him up to the American 
20 troops above, and to claim the reward offered for his appre- 
hension. Every thing was ready, and they were about to lift 
Birch in their arms, for he resolutely refused to move an inch, 
when a form appeared in their midst, which appalled the 
stoutest heart among them. The father had arisen from his 
25 bed, and he tottered forth at the cries of his son. Around 
his body was thrown the sheet of the bed, and his fixed eye 
and haggard face gave him the appearance of a being from 
another world. Even Katy and Csesar thought it was the 
spirit of the elder Birch, and they fled the house, followed 
30 by the alarmed Skinners in a body. 

The excitement, which had given the sick man strength, 
soon vanished, and the pedler, lifting him in his arms, re- 
conveyed him to his bed. The re-action of the system 
which followed hastened to close the scene. 

35 The glazed eye of the father was fixed upon the son; his 
lips moved, but his voice was unheard. Harvey bent 
down, and, with the parting breath of his parent, received 
his dying benediction. A life of privation, and of wrongs, 
embittered most of the future hours of the pedler. But 
40 under no sufferings, in no misfortunes, the subject of pov- 
erty and obloquy, the remembrance of that blessing never 


THE SPY 


127 


left him ; it constantly gleamed over the images of the past, 
shedding a holy radiance around his saddest hours of de- 
spondency; it cheered the prospect of the future with the 
prayers of a pious spirit ; and it brought the sweet assurance 
of having faithfully and truly discharged the sacred offices 5 
of filial love. 

The retreat of Csesar and the spinster had been too pre- 
cipitate to admit of much calculation; yet they themselves 
instinctively separated from the Skinners. After fleeing 
a short distance they paused, and the maiden commenced 10 
in a solemn voice — 

“ Oh ! Csesar, was it not dreadful to walk before he had 
been laid in his grave ! It must have been the money that 
disturbed him : they say Captain Kidd ° walks near the 
spot where he buried gold in the old war.’^ 15 

“ I neber tfink Johnny Birch hab such a big eye ! ’’ said 
the African, his teeth yet chattering with the fright. 

“I’m sure ’twould be a botherment to a living soul to lose 
so much money. Harvey will be nothing but an utterly 
despisable, poverty-stricken wretch. I wonder who he 20 
thinks would be even his housekeeper ! ” 

“Maybe a spooke take away Harvey, too,” observed 
Csesar, moving still nearer to the side of the maiden. But 
a new idea had seized the imagination of the spinster. She 
thought it not improbable that the prize had been forsaken 25 
in the confusion of the retreat; and after deliberating and 
reasoning for some time with Csesar, they determined to 
venture back, and ascertain this important fact, and, if 
possible, learn what had been the fate of the pedler. Much 
time was spent in cautiously approaching the dreaded spot; 3° 
and as the spinster had sagaciously placed herself in the 
line of the retreat of the Skinners, every stone w'as examined 
in the progress in search of the abandoned gold. But 
although the suddenness of the alarm and the cry of Csesar 
had impelled the freebooters to so hasty a retreat, they 35 
grasped the hoard with a hold that death itself would not 
have loosened. Perceiving every thing to be quiet within, 
Katy at length mustered resolution to enter the dwelling, 
where she found the pedler, with a heavy heart, performing 
the last sad offices for the dead. A few words sufficed to ex- 40 
plain to Katy the nature of her mistake ; but Csesar con- 


128 


THE SPY 


tinned to his dying day to astonish the sable inmates of the 
kitchen with learned dissertations on spookes, and to relate i 
how direful was the appearance of that of Johnny Birch, 

The danger compelled the pedler to abridge even the i 
5 short period that American custom leaves the deceased 
with us; and, aided by the black and Katy, his painful 
task was soon ended. Csesar volunteered to walk a couple 
of miles with orders to a carpenter; an‘d, the body being 
habited in its ordinary attire, was left, with a sheet thrown j 
lo decently over it, to await the return of the messenger. j 

The Skinners had fled precipitately to the wood, which 
was but a short distance from the house of Birch, and once 
safely sheltered within its shades, they halted, and mustered 
their panic-stricken forces. | 

15 “ What in the name of fury seized your coward hearts? ’’ 

cried their dissatisfied leader, drawing his breath heavily, 

“The same question might be asked yourself,^’ returned 
one of the band, sullenly. 

“ From your fright, I thought a party of De Fancy’s 
20 men were upon us. Oh ! you are brave gentlemen at a 
race ! ” 

“ We follow our Captain.” 

“ Then follow me back, and let us secure the scoundrel, i 
and receive the reward.” ^ 

25 “Yes; and by the time we reach the house, that black j 
rascal will have the mad Virginian upon us; by my soul, 

I would rather meet fifty Cow-Boys than that single man.” 

“Fool!” cried the enraged leader, “don’t you know 
Dunwoodie’s horse are at the Corners, full two miles from 
30 here?” 

“ I care not where the dragoons are, but I will swear that j 
I saw Captain Lawton enter the house of old Wharton, while : 
I lay watching an opportunity of getting the British Colonel’s i 
horse from the stable.” 

35 “ And if he should come, won’t a bullet silence a dragoon! 

from the south as well as one from old England?” i 

“Ay, but I don’t choose a hornet’s nest about my ears;; 
rase the skin of one of that corps, and you will never seel 
another peaceable night’s foraging again.” 

40 “ Well,” muttered the leader, as they retired deeper into 

the wood, “this sottish pedler will stay to see the old devil: 


THE SPY 


129 


buried; and though we cannot touch him at the funeral 
(for that would raise every old woman and priest in America 
against us), he’ll wait to look after the movables, and to- 
morrow night shall wind up his concerns.” 

With this threat they withdrew to one of their usual 5 
places of resort, until darkness should again give them an 
opportunity of marauding on the community without 
danger of detection. 


K 


CHAPTER XI 


O wo ! O woful, woful, woful day ! 

Most lamentable day : most woful day, 

That ever, ever, I did yet behold ! 

O day ! O day ! O day ! O hateful day ! 

Never was seen so black a day as this : 

O woful day ! O woful day ! 

Shakspeare. 

The family at the Locusts had slept, or watched, through | 
all the disturbances at the cottage of Birch, in perfect 
ignorance of their occurrence. The attacks of the Skinners 
were always made with so much privacy as to exclude the 
5 sufferers, not only from succour, but frequently, through a 
dread of future depredations, from the commiseration of 
their neighbours also. Additional duties had drawn the . 
ladies from their pillows at an hour somewhat earlier than 
usual ; and Captain Lawton, notwithstanding the sufferings ; 
lo of his body, had risen in compliance with a rule from which * 
he never departed, of sleeping but six hours at a time. ; 
This was one of the few points, in which the care of the . 
human frame was involved, on which the trooper and the* 
surgeon of horse were ever known to agree. The doctor- 
15 had watched, during the night, by the side of the bed ofi 
Captain Singleton, without once closing his eyes. Occa- 
sionally he would pay a visit to the wounded Englishman, 
who, being more hurt in the spirit than in the flesh, tolerated 
the interruptions with a very ill grace; and once, for anj 
20 instant, he ventured to steal softly to the bed of his obstinate; 
comrade, and was near succeeding in obtaining a touch of' 
his pulse, when a terrible oath, sworn by the trooper in ai 
dream, startled the prudent surgeon, and warned him of a| 
trite saying in the corps, “that Captain Lawton always i 
25 slept with one eye open.” This group had assembled in one 1 
of the parlours as the sun made its appearance over the) 
eastern hill, dispersing the columns of fog which had en-j 
veloped the low land. ^ 

Miss Peyton was looking from a window in the direction] 

130 i 


THE SPY 


131 


of the tenement of the pedler, and was expressing a kind 
anxiety after the welfare of the sick man, when the person 
of Katy suddenly emerged from the dense covering of an 
earthly cloud, whose mists were scattering before the cheer- 
ing rays of the sun, and was seen making hasty steps towards 5 
the Locusts. There was that in the air of the housekeeper 
which bespoke distress of an unusual nature, and the kind- 
hearted mistress of the Locusts opened the door of the room, 
with the benevolent intention of soothing a grief that seemed 
so overwhelming. A nearer view of the disturbed features 10 
of the visitor confirmed Miss Peyton in her belief; and, with 
the shock that gentle feelings ever experience at a sudden 
and endless separation from even the meanest of their 
associates, she said hastily — 

“ Katy, is he gone? ’’ 15 

‘‘ No, ma’am,” replied the disturbed damsel, with great 
bitterness, '‘he is not yet gone, but he may go as soon as he 
pleases now, for the worst is done. I do verily believe. 
Miss Peyton, they haven’t so much as left him money enough 
to buy him another suit of clothes to cover his nakedness, 20 
and those he has on are none of the best, I can tell you.” 

“How,” exclaimed the other, astonished, “could anyone 
have the heart to plunder a man in such distress? ” 

“Hearts!” repeated Katy, catching her breath; “men 
like them have no bowels at all. Plunder and distress, 25 
indeed! Why, ma’am, there were in the iron pot, in plain 
sight, fifty-four guineas of gold, besides what lay under- 
neath, which I couldn’t count without handling; and I 
didn’t like to touch it, for they say that another’s gold is 
apt to stick — so, judging from that in sight, there wasn’t 30 
less than two hundred guineas, besides what might have been 
in the deer-skin purse. But Harvey is little better now 
than a beggar; and a beggar. Miss Jeanette, is the most 
awfully despisable of all earthly creatures.” 

“ Poverty is to be pitied, and not despised,” said the lady, 35 
still unable to comprehend the extent of the misfortune 
that had befallen her neighbour during the night. “But 
how is the old man? and does this loss affect him much? ” 

The countenance of Katy changed, from the natural 
expression of concern, to the set form of melancholy, as 40 
she answered — 


132 


THE SPY 


“He is happily removed from the cares of the world; 
the chinking of the money made him get out of his bed, 
and the poor soul found the shock too great for him. He 
died about two hours and ten minutes before the cock 
5 crowed, as near as we can say; ” — she was interrupted by 
the physician, who, approaching, enquired, with much 
interest, the nature of the disorder. Glancing her eye over 
the figure of this new acquaintance, Katy, instinctively 
adjusting her dress, replied — 

lo “ ’Twas the troubles of the times, and the loss of property, 
that brought him down; he wasted from day to day, and 
all my care and anxiety were lost; for now Harvey is no i 
better than a beggar, and who is there to pay me for what i 
I have done?” j 

15 “ God will reward you for all the good you have done,” i 

said Miss Peyton, mildly. ! 

“Yes,” interrupted the spinster hastily, and with an air I 
of reverence that was instantly succeeded by an expression 
that denoted more of worldly care; “but then I have left 
20 my wages for three years past in the hands of Harvey, ^ 
and how am I to get them? My brothers told me, again • 
and again, to ask for my money; but I always thought 
accounts between relations were easily settled.” 

“ Were you related, then, to Birch? ” asked Miss Peyton, . 
25 observing her to pause. 

“ Why,” returned the housekeeper, hesitating a little, “ I ’ 
thought we were as good as so. I wonder if I have no claim ' 
on the house and garden; though they say, now it is Har- 
vey’s, it will surely be confiscated;” turning to Lawton, 
30 who had been sitting in one posture, with his piercing 
eyes lowering at her through his thick brows, in silence, 

“ perhaps this gentleman knows — he seems to take an , 
interest in my story.” 

“ Madam,” said the trooper, bowing very low, “both you ; 
35 and the tale are extremely interesting ” — Katy smiled in- ' 
voluntarily — “ but my humble knowledge is limited to the 
setting of a squadron in the field, and using it when there. ' 
I beg leave to refer you to Dr. Archibald Sitgreaves, a gentle- 
man of universal attainments, and unbounded philanthropy; 
40 the very milk of human sympathies, and a mortal foe to all ; 
indiscriminate cutting.” 


THE SPY 


133 


The prgeon drew up, and employed himself in whistling 
a low air, as he looked over some phials on a table ; but the 
housekeeper, turning to him with an inclination of the 
head, continued — 

‘‘I suppose, sir, a woman has no dower in her husband’s 5 
property, unless they be actually married?” 

It was a maxim with Dr. Sitgreaves, that no species of 
knowledge was to be despised; and, consequently, he was 
an empiric ° in every thing but his profession. At first, 
indignation at the irony of his comrade kept him silent; 10 
but, suddenly changing his purpose, he answered the ap- 
plicant with a good-natured smile — 

“I judge not. If death has anticipated your nuptials, 

I am fearful you have no remedy against his stern decrees.” 

To Katy this sounded well, although she understood 15 
nothing of its meaning, but ‘Meath” and “nuptials.” To 
this part of his speech, then, she directed her reply. 

“I did think he only waited the death of the old gentle- 
man before he married,” said the housekeeper, looking on 
the carpet; “but now he is nothing more than despisable, 20 
or, what’s the same thing, a pedler without house, pack, 
or money. It might be hard for a man to get a wife at all 
in such a predicary ° — don’t you think it would, Miss 
Peyton?” 

“ I seldom trouble myself with such things,” said the lady, 25 
gravely. 

During this dialogue Captain Lawton had been studying 
the countenance and manner of the housekeeper, with a 
most ludicrous gravity; and, fearful the conversation would 
cease, he enquired, with an appearance of great interest — 30 

“You think it was age and debility that removed the old 
gentleman at last?” 

“And the troublesome times. Trouble is a heavy pull- 
down to a sick-bed; but I suppose his time had come, and 
when that happens, it matters but little what doctor’s 35 
stuff we take.” 

“Let me set you right in that particular,” interrupted the 
surgeon; “we must all die, it is true, but it is permitted 
us to use the lights of science, in arresting dangers as they 
occur, until — ” 40 

“We can die secundum artem,” ° cried the trooper. 


134 


THE SPY 


To this observation the physician did not deign to reply ; 
but, deeming it necessary to his professional dignity that 
the conversation should continue, he added — 

“ Perhaps, in this instance, judicious treatment might haVe 
5 prolonged the life of the patient. Who administered to 
the case?” 

‘‘No one yet,” said the housekeeper, with quickness; 
“I expect he has made his last will in the testament.” 

The surgeon disregarded the smile of the ladies, and 
lo pursued his enquiries. 

“It is doubtless wise to be prepared for death. But 
under whose care was the sick man during his indisposition ?” 

“Under mine,” answered Katy, with an air of a little 
importance; “and care thrown away I may well call it; 
15 for Harvey is quite too despisable to be any sort of com- 
pensation at present.” 

The mutual ignorance of each other’s meaning made very 
little interruption to the dialogue, for both took a good deal 
for granted, and Sitgreaves pursued the subject. 

20 “And how did you treat him?” 

“Kindly, you may be certain,” said Katy, rather tartly. 

“The doctor means medically, madam,” observed 
Captain Lawton, with a face that would have honoured the 
funeral of the deceased. 

25 “I doctor’d him mostly with yarbs,” ° said the house- 
keeper, smiling, as if conscious of error. 

“With simples,” returned the surgeon; “they are safer 
in the hands of the unlettered than more powerful remedies : 
but why had you no regular attendant?” 

30 “I’m sure Harvey has suffered enough already from 
having so much concerns with the rig’lars,” ° replied the 
housekeeper; “he has lost his all, and made himself a 
vagabond through the land; and I have reason to rue the 
day I ever crossed the threshold of his house.” 

35 “Dr. Sitgreaves does not mean a rig’lar soldier, but a 
regular physician, madam,” said the trooper. 

“Oh!” cried the maiden, again correcting herself, “for 
the best of all reasons; there was none to be had, so I took 
care of him myself. If there had been a doctor at hand, 
40 I am sure we would gladly have had him; for my part, I 
am clear for doctoring, though Harvey says I am killing 


THE SPY 


135 


myself with medicines ; but I am sure it will make but little 
difference to him, whether I live or die.” 

‘^Therein you show your sense,” said the surgeon, ap- 
proaching the spinster, who sat holding the palms of her 
hands and the soles of her feet to the genial heat of a fine 5 
fire, making the most of comfort amid all her troubles; 
‘‘you appear to be a sensible, discreet woman, and some 
who have had opportunities of acquiring more correct 
views might envy you your respect for knowledge and the 
lights of science.” 10 

Although the housekeeper did not altogether comprehend 
the other’s meaning, she knew he used a compliment, and 
as such was highly pleased with what he said ; with increased 
animation, therefore, she cried, “It was always said of me, 
that I wanted nothing but opportunity to make quite a 15 
physician myself; so long as before I came to live with 
Harvey’s father, they called me the petticoat doctor.” 

“More true than civil, I dare say,” returned the surgeon, 
losing sight of the woman’s character in his admiration of 
her respect for the healing art. “In the absence of more 20 
enlightened counsellors, the experience of a discreet matron 
is frequently of great efficacy in checking the progress of 
disease; under such circumstances, madam, it is dreadful 
to have to contend with ignorance and obstinacy.” 

“Bad enough, as I well know from experience,” cried 25 
Katy, in triumph: “Harvey is as obstinate about such 
things as a dumb beast; one would think the care I took 
of his bed-ridden father might learn him better than to 
despise good nursing. But some day he may know what it 
is to want a careful woman in his house, though now I am 30 
sure he is too despisable himself to have a house.” 

“ Indeed, I can easily comprehend the mortification you 
must have felt in having one so self-willed to deal with,” 
returned the surgeon, glancing his eyes reproachfully at 
his comrade ; “ but you should rise superior to such opinions, 35 
and pity the ignorance by which they are engendered.” 

The housekeeper hesitated a moment, at a loss to com- 
prehend all that the surgeon expressed, yet she felt it was 
both complimentary and kind; therefore, suppressing her 
natural flow of language a little, she replied — 4 ° 

“I tell Harvey his conduct is often condemnable, and last 


136 


THE SPY 


night he made my words good; but the opinions of such 
unbelievers is not very consequential; yet it is dreadful 
to think how he behaves at times: now, when he threw 
away the needle — ’’ 

5 “What!’’ said the surgeon, interrupting her, “does he 
affect to despise the needle? But it is my lot to meet 
with men, daily, who are equally perverse, and who show 
a still more culpable disrespect for the information that 
flows from the lights of science.” 
lo The doctor turned his face towards Captain Lawton while 
speaking, but the elevation of the head prevented his eyes 
from resting on the grave countenance maintained by the 
trooper. Katy listened with admiring attention, and when 
the other had done, she added — 

15 “Then Harvey is a disbeliever in the tides.” 

“Not believe in the tides I” repeated the healer of bodies 
in astonishment; “does the man distrust his senses? but 
perhaps it is the influence of the moon that he doubts.” 

“That he does!” exclaimed Katy, shaking with delight 
20 at meeting with a man of learning, who could support her 
favourite opinions. “ If you was to hear him talk, you would 
think he didn’t believe there was such a thing as a moon at 
all.” 

“It is the misfortune of ignorance and incredulity, 
25 madam, that they feed themselves. The mind once rejecting 
useful information, insensibly leans to superstition and con- 
clusions on the order of nature, that are not less prejudicial 
to the cause of truth, than they are at variance with the 
first principles of human knowledge.” 

30 The spinster was too much awe-struck to venture an un- 
digested reply to this speech; and the surgeon, after pausing 
a moment in a kind of philosophical disdain, continued — • 

“That any man in his senses can doubt of the flux of the 
tides is more than I could have thought possible; yet 
35 obstinacy is a dangerous inmate to harbour, and may lead 
us into any error, however gross.” 

“You think, then, they have an effect on the flux,” said 
the housekeeper, enquiringly. 

Miss Peyton rose, and beckoned her nieces to give her 
40 their assistance in the adjoining pantry, while for a moment 
the dark visage of the attentive Lawton was lighted by an 


THE SPY 


137 


animation that vanished by an effort, as powerful, and as 
sudden, as the one that drew it into being. 

After reflecting whether he rightly understood the mean- 
ing of the other, the surgeon making due allowance for the 
love of learning, acting upon a want of education, replied — 5 

“The moon, you mean; many philosophers have doubted 
how far it affects the tides ; but I think it is wilfully rejecting 
the lights of science not to believe it causes both the flux 
and reflux,” 

As reflux was a disorder with which Katy was not ac- 10 
quainted, she thought it prudent to be silent; yet burning 
with curiosity to know the meaning of certain portentous 
lights to which the other so often alluded, she ventured 
to ask — 

“ If them lights he spoke of, were what was called northern 15 
lights in these parts?” 

In charity to her ignorance, the surgeon would have 
entered into an elaborate explanation of his meaning, had 
he not been interrupted by the mirth of Lawton. The 
trooper had listened so far with great composure; but now 20 
he laughed until his aching bones reminded him of his fall, 
and the tears rolled over his cheeks in larger drops than had 
ever been seen there before. At length the offended phy- 
sician seized an opportunity of a pause to say — 

“To you. Captain Lawton, it may be a source of triumph, 25 
that an uneducated woman should make a mistake in a 
subject, on which men of science have long been at variance; 
but yet you find this respectable matron does not reject 
the lights — does not reject the use of proper instruments 
in repairing injuries sustained by the human frame. You 3° 
may possibly remember, sir, her allusion to the use of the 
needle.” 

“Ay,” cried the delighted trooper, “to mend the pedler’s 
breeches.” 

Katy drew up in evident displeasure, and prompt to 35 
vindicate her character for more lofty acquirements, she 
said — 

“ 'Twas not a common use that I put that needle to 
— but one of much greater virtue.” 

“Explain yourself, madam,” said the surgeon impa- 40 
tiently, “that this gentleman may see how little reason he 
has for exultation.” 


138 


THE SPY 


Thus solicited, Katy paused to collect sufficient eloquence 
to garnish her narrative. The substance of her tale was, 
that a child who had been placed by the guardians of the 
poor in the keeping of Harvey, had, in the absence of its 
5 master, injured itself badly in the foot by a large needle. 
The offending instrument had been carefully greased, 
wrapped in woollen, and placed in a certain charmed nook, 
of the chimney; while the foot, from a fear of weakening 
the incantation, was left in a state of nature. The arrival 
lo of the pedler had altered the whole of this admirable treat- 
ment; and the consequences were expressed by Katy, as 
she concluded her narrative, by saying — 

“ 'Twas no wonder the boy died, of a lock-jaw !” 

Dr. Sitgreaves looked out of the window in admira- 
iStion of the brilliant morning, striving all he could to avoid i 
the basilisk® eyes of his comrade. He was impelled, by I 
a feeling that he could not conquer, however, to look Cap- | 
tain Lawton in the face. The trooper had arranged every 
muscle of his countenance to express sympathy for the fate , 
20 of the poor child ; but the exultation of his eyes cut the 
astounded man of science to the quick; he muttered some- 
thing concerning the condition of his patients, and retreated 
with precipitation. j 

Mi.ss Peyton entered into the situation of things at the 
25 house of the pedler, with all the interest of her excellent 
feelings ; she listened patiently while Katy recounted, more 
particularly, the circumstances of the past night as they 
had occurred. The spinster did not forget to dwell on the 
magnitude of the pecuniary loss sustained by Harvey, and 
30 in no manner spared her invectives, at his betraying a 
secret which might so easily have been kept. 

“For, Miss Peyton,” continued the housekeeper, after 
a pause to take breath, “I would have given up life before 
I would have given up that secret. At the most, they could 
35 only have killed him, and now a body may say that they 
have slain both soul and body ; or, what’s the same thing, 
they have made him a despisable vagabond. I wonder 
who he thinks would be his wife, or who would keep his 
house. For my part, my good name is too precious to be 
40 living with a lone man; though, for the matter of that, he 
is never there. I am resolved to tell him this day, that 


THE SPY 


139 


stay there, a single woman, I will not an hour, after the 
funeral; and marry him I don’t think I will, unless he be- 
comes steadier, and more of a homebody.” 

The mild mistress of the Locusts suffered the exuberance 
of the housekeeper’s feeling to expend itself, and then, by 5 
one or two judicious questions, that denoted a more intimate 
knowledge of the windings of the human heart in matters 
of Cupid, than might fairly be supposed to belong to a 
spinster, she extracted enough from Katy, to discover the 
improbability of Harvey’s ever presuming to offer himself, 10 
with his broken fortunes, to the acceptance of Katharine 
Haynes. She, therefore, mentioned her own want of as- 
sistance in the present state of her household, and expressed 
a wish that Katy would change her residence to the Locusts, 
in case the pedler had no further use for her services. After 15 
a few preliminary conditions on the part of the wary house- 
keeper, the arrangement was concluded ; and making a few 
more piteous lamentations on the weight of her own losses, 
the stupidity of Harvey, united with some curiosity to know 
the future fate of the pedler, Katy withdrew to make the 20 
necessary preparations Tor the approaching funeral, which 
was to take place that day. 

During the interview between the two females,® Lawton, 
through delicacy, had withdrawn. Anxiety took him to the 
room of Captain Singleton. The character of this youth, 25 
it has already been shown, endeared him in a peculiar man- 
ner to every officer in the corps. The singularly mild de- 
portment of the young dragoon had, on so many occasions, 
been proved not to proceed from want of resolution, that his 
almost feminine softness of manner and appearance had 30 
failed to bring him into disrepute, even in that band of 
partisan warriors. 

To the Major he was as dear as a brother, and his easy 
submission to the directions of his surgeon had made him 
a marked favourite with Dr. Sitgreaves. The rough usage 35 
the corps often received in its daring attacks, had brought 
each of its officers, in succession, under the temporary 
keeping of the surgeon. To Captain Singleton the man of 
science had decreed the palm of docility, on such occasions, 
and Captain Lawton he had fairly black-balled. He fre- 40 
quently declared, with unconquerable simplicity and earnest- 


140 


THE SPY 


ness of manner, that it gave him more pleasure to see the 
former brought in wounded than any officer in the squadron, 
and that the latter afforded him the least; a compliment 
and condemnation that were usually received by the first 
5 of the parties with a quiet smile of good nature, and by the 
last with a grave bow of thanks. On the present occasion, 
the mortified surgeon and exulting trooper met in the room 
of Captain Singleton, as a place where they could act on 
common ground. Some time was occupied in Joint atten- 
lo tions to the comfort of the wounded officer, and the doctor 
retired to an apartment prepared for his own accommoda- 
tion; here, within a few minutes, he was surprised by the : 
entrance of Lawton. The triumph of the trooper had been 
so complete, that he felt he could afford to be generous, and ‘ 
15 commencing by voluntarily throwing aside his coat, he cried 
carelessly — ■ 

‘‘Sitgreaves, administer a little of the aid of the lights of i 
science to my body, if you please.” 

The surgeon was beginning to feel this was a subject 
20 that was intolerable, but venturing a glance towards his 
comrade, he saw with surprise the preparations he had made, < 
and an air of sincerity about him, that was unusual to his 
manner when making such a request. Changing his in- 
tended burst of resentment to a tone of civil enquiry, he 
25 said — 

“Does Captain Lawton want any thing at my hands?” 

“Look for yourself, my dear sir,” said the trooper mildly; ' 
“here seem to be most of the colours of the rainbow, on this , 
shoulder.” 

30 “ You have reason for saying so,” said the other, handling 

the part with great tenderness and consummate skill; “but 
happily nothing is broken. It is wonderful how well you 
escaped!” 

“I have been a tumbler from my youth, and I am past 
35 minding a few falls from a horse; but, Sitgreaves,” he added 
with affection, and pointing to a scar on his body, “do you 
remember this bit of work?” 

“Perfectly well. Jack; it was bravely obtained, and 
neatly extracted; but don’t you think I had better apply 
40 an oil to these bruises?” 

“Certainly,” said Lawton, with unexpected condescen- 
sion. 


THE SPY 


141 


"Now, my dear boy,” cried the doctor, exultingly, as he 
busied himself in applying the remedy to the hurts, "do 
you not think it would have been better to have done all 
this last night?” 

"Quite probable.” 5 

"Yes, Jack, but if you had let me perform the operation 
of phlebotomy ° when I first saw you, it would have been 
of infinite service.” 

"No phlebotomy,” said the other, positively. 

"It is now too late; but a dose of oil would carry off the 10 
humours famously.” 

To this the Captain made no reply, but grated his teeth, 
in a way that showed the fortress of his mouth was not to 
be assailed without a resolute resistance; and the expe- 
rienced physician changed the subject by saying — 15 

"It is a pity, John, that you did not catch the rascal, 
after the danger and trouble you incurred.” 

The Captain of dragoons made no reply; and, while 
placing some bandages on the wounded shoulder, the 
surgeon continued — 20 

"If I have any wish at all to destroy human life, it is 
to have the pleasure of seeing that traitor hanged.” 

"I thought your business was to cure and not to slay,” 
said the trooper, dryly. 

"Ay! but he has caused us such heavy losses by his 25 
information, that I sometimes feel a very unphilosophical 
temper towards that spy.” 

"You should not encourage such feelings of animosity 
to any of your fellow-creatures,” returned Lawton, in a 
tone that caused the operator to drop a pin he was arranging 30 
in the bandages from his hand. He looked the patient in 
the face to remove all doubts of his identity ; finding, how- 
ever, it was his old comrade. Captain. John Lawton, who had 
spoken, he rallied his astonished faculties, and proceeded 
by saying — 35 

"Your doctrine is just, and in general I subscribe to it. 
But, John, my dear fellow, is the bandage easy?” 

"Quite.” 

"I agree with you as a whole; but as matter is infinitely 
divisible, so no case exists without an exception. Lawton, 40 
do you feel easy? ” 


142 


THE SPY 


“Very.” 

“It is not only cruel to the sufferer, but sometimes unjust 
to others, to take human life where a less punishment would 
answer the purpose. Now, Jack, if you were only — move 
5 your arm a little — if you were only — I hope you feel 
easier, my dear friend?” 

“Much.” 

“If, my dear John, you would teach your men to cut with 
more discretion, it would answer you the same purpose — 
lo and give me great pleasure.” 

The doctor drew a heavy sigh, as he was enabled to get 
rid of what was nearest to his heart ; and the dragoon coolly 
replaced his coat, saying with great deliberation as he 
retired — 

15 “I know no troop that cut more judiciously; they gen- 
erally shave from the crown to the jaw.” 

The disappointed operator collected his instruments, and 
with a heavy heart proceeded to pay a visit to the room 
of Colonel Wellmere. 


CHAPTER XII 


This fairy form contains a soul as mighty 
As that which lives within a giant’s frame; 

These slender limbs, that tremble like the aspen 
At summer evening’s sigh, uphold a spirit. 

Which, roused, can tower to the height of heaven, 

And light those shining windows of the face 
With much of heaven’s own radiance. 

Duo. 

The number and character of her guests had greatly 
added to the cares of Miss Jeanette Peyton. The morning 
found them all restored, in some measure, to their former 
ease of body, with the exception of the youthful captain 
of dragoons, who had been so deeply regretted by Dun- 5 
woodie. The wound of this officer was severe, though the 
surgeon persevered in saying that it was without danger. 
His comrade, we have shown, had deserted his couch; and 
Henry Wharton awoke from a sleep that had been undis- 
turbed by any thing but a dream of suffering amputation lo 
under the hands of a surgical novice. As it proved, how- 
ever, to be nothing but a dream, the yopth found himself 
much refreshed by his slumbers; and Dr. Sitgreaves re- 
moved all further apprehensions by confidently pronounc- 
ing that he would be a well man within a fortnight. 15 

During all this time Colonel Wellmere did not make his 
appearance; he breakfasted in his own room, and, not- 
withstanding certain significant smiles of the man of science, 
declared himself too much injured to rise from his bed. 
Leaving him, therefore, endeavouring to conceal his chagrin 20 
in the solitude of his chamber, the surgeon proceeded to 
the more grateful task of sitting an hour by the bedside 
of George Singleton. A slight flush was on the face of the 
patient as the doctor entered the room; and the latter 
advanced promptly, and laid his fingers on the pulse of the 25 
youth, beckoning to him to be silent, while he muttered to 
himself — 


143 


144 


THE SPY 


“Growing symptoms of a febrile pulse — no, no, my dear 
George, you must remain quiet and dumb; though your 
eyes look better, and your skin has even a moisture.” 

“Nay, my dear Sitgreaves,” said the youth, taking his 
5 hand, “ you see there is no fever about me : look, is there 
any of Jack Lawton’s hoar-frost on my tongue?” 

“No, indeed,” said the surgeon, clapping a spoon in the 
mouth of the other, forcing it open, and looking down his 
throat as if disposed to visit the interior in person; “the 
lo tongue is well, and the pulse begins to lower again. Ah ! 
the bleeding did you good. Phlebotomy is a sovereign 
specific for southern constitutions. But that madcap 
Lawton obstinately refused to be blooded for a fall he had 
from his horse last night. Why, George, your case is be- 
15 coming singular,” continued the doctor, instinctively throw- 
ing aside his wig; “your pulse even and soft, jmur skin 
moist, but your eye fiery, and cheek flushed. Oh ! I must 
examine more closely into these symptoms.” 

“Softly, my good friend, softly,” said the youth, falling 
20 back on his pillow, and losing some of that colour which 
alarmed his companion; “ I believe, in extracting the ball, 
you did for me all that is required. I am free from pain, 
and only weak, I do assure you.” 

“Captain Singleton,” said the surgeon, with heat, “it is 
25 presumptuous in you to pretend to tell your medical attend- 
ant when you are free from pain : if it be not to enable us 
to decide in such matters, of what avail the lights of science ? 
For shame, George, for shame ! even that perverse fellow, 
John Lawton, could not behave with more obstinacy.” 

30 His patient smiled, as he gently repulsed his physician 
in an attempt to undo the bandages, and, with a returning 
glow to his cheeks, enquired — 

“ Do, Archibald,” — a term of endearment that seldom 
failed to soften the operator’s heart, — “ tell me what 
35 spirit from heaven has been gliding around my apartment, 
while I lay pretending to sleep.” 

“ If any one interferes with my patients,” cried the doctor, 
hastily, “ I will teach them, spirit or no spirit, what it is to 
meddle with another man’s concerns.” 

40 “ Tut — my dear fellow, there was no interference made, 

nor any intended; see,” exhibiting the bandages, “every 


THE SPY 


145 


thing is as you left it, — but it glided about the room with 
the grace of a fairy, and the tenderness of an angel.” 

The surgeon, having satisfied himself that every thing 
was as he had left it, very deliberately resumed his seat 
and replaced his wig, as he enquired, with a brevity that s 
would have honoured Lieutenant Mason — 

‘‘Had it petticoats, George?” 

“ I saw nothing but its heavenly eyes — its bloom — its 
majestic step — its grace,” replied the jmung man, with 
rather more ardour than his surgeon thought consistent lo 
with his debilitated condition; and he laid his hand on his 
mouth to stop him, saying himself — 

“It must have been Miss Jeanette Peyton — a lady of 
fine accomplishments, with — hem — with something of 
the kind of step you speak of ^ — a very complacent eye; 15 
and as to the bloom, I dare say offices of charity can sum- 
mon as fine a colour to her cheeks, as glows in the faces of 
her more youthful nieces.” 

“Nieces! has she nieces, then? The angel I saw may 
be a daughter, a sister, or a niece, — but never an aunt.” 20 

“Hush, George, hush; your talking has brought your 
pulse up again. You must observe quiet, and prepare for 
a meeting with your own sister, who will be here within an 
hour.” 

“ What, Isabella ! and who sent for her?” 25 

“ The Major.” 

“Considerate Dunwoodie!” murmured the exhausted 
youth, sinking again on his* pillow, where the commands 
of his attendant compelled him to remain silent. 

Even Captain Lawton had been received with many and 30 
courteous enquiries after the state of his health, from all 
the members of the family, when he made his morning 
entrance; but an invisible spirit presided over the com- 
forts of the English Colonel. Sarah had shrunk with con- 
sciousness from entering the room; yet she knew the posi- 35 
tion of every glass, and had, with her own hands, supplied 
the contents of every bowl, that stood on his table. 

At the time of our tale, we v/ere a divided people, and 
Sarah thought it was no more than her duty to cherish 
the institutions of that country to which she yet clung 4 ° 
as the land of her forefathers; but there were other and 

T. 


146 


THE SPY 


more cogent reasons for the silent preference she was 
giving to the Englishman. His image had first filled the 
void in her youthful fancy, and it was an image that was 
distinguished by many of those attractions that can en- 
5 chain a female heart. It is true, he wanted the personal 
excellence of Peyton Dunwoodie, but his pretensions were 
far from contemptible. Sarah had moved about the house 
during the morning, casting frequent and longing glances 
at the door of Wellmere’s apartment, anxious to learn the 
I ©condition of his wounds, and yet ashamed to enquire; 
conscious interest kept her tongue tied, until her sister, 
with the frankness of innocence, had put the desired ques- 
tion to Dr. Sitgreaves. i 

“Colonel Wellmere,’’ said the operator, gravely, “is in | 
15 what I call a state of free-will, madam. He is ill, or he is | 
well, as he pleases. His case, young lady, exceeds my art I 
to heal ; and I take it Sir Henry Clinton is the best adviser I 
he can apply to; though Major Dunwoodie has made the i 
communication with his leech°'rather difficult.” 1 

20 Frances smiled, but averted her face, while Sarah moved, j 
with the grace of an offended Juno,° from the apartment, f 
Her own room, however, afforded her but little relief, and 
in passing through the long gallery that communicated 
with each of the chambers of the building, she noticed the 
25 door of Singleton’s room to be open. The wounded youth 
seemed sleeping, and was alone. She had ventured lightly 
into the apartment, and busied herself for a few minutes in 
arranging the tables, and the nourishment provided for , 
the patient, hardly conscious of what she was doing, and 
30 possibly dreaming that these little feminine offices were I 
performed for another. Her natural bloom was heightened , 
by the insinuation of the surgeon, nor was the lustre of . 
her eye in any degree diminished. The sound of the ap- 1 
preaching footstep of Sitgreaves hastened her retreat down 1 
35 a private stairway, to the side of her sister. The sisters ' 
then sought the fresh air on the piazza; and as they pur- i 
sued their walk, arm in arm, the following dialogue took 
place : — ' 

“There is something disagreeable about this surgeon of 
40 Dunwoodie,” said Sarah, “ that causes me to wish him away 
most heartily.” 


THE SPY 


147 


Frances fixed her laughing eyes on her sister; but for- 
bearing to speak, the other readily construed their expres- 
sion, and hastily added, “But I forget he is one of your 
renowned corps of Virginians, and must be spoken of 
reverently.’’ 5 

“As respectfully as you please, my dear sister; there is 
but little danger of exceeding the truth.” 

“Not in your opinion,” said the elder, with a little 
warmth; “but I think Mr. Dunwoodie has taken a liberty 
that exceeds the rights of consanguinity ; he has made our lo 
father’s house a hospital.” 

“We ought to be grateful that none of the patients it 
contains are dearer to us.” 

“ Your brother is one.” 

“True, true,” interrupted Frances, blushing to the eyes; 15 
“but he leaves his room, and thinks his wound lightly pur- 
chased by the pleasure of being with his friends. If,” she 
added, with a tremulous lip, “this dreadful suspicion that 
is affixed to his visit were removed, I could consider his 
wound of little moment.” 20 

“You now have the fruits of rebellion brought home to 
you; a brother wounded and a prisoner, and perhaps a 
victim; your father distressed, his privacy interrupted, 
and not improbably his estates torn from him, on account 
of his loyalty to his king.” 25 

Frances continued her walk in silence. While facing the 
northern entrance to the vale, her eyes were uniformly 
fastened on the point where the road was suddenly lost by 
the intervention of a hill; and at each turn, as she lost 
sight of the spot, she lingered until an impatient move- 30 
ment of her sister quickened her pace to an even motion 
with that of her own. At length, a single horse-chaise was 
seen making its way carefully among the stones which lay 
scattered over the country road that wound through the 
valley, and approached the cottage. The colour of Frances 35 
changed as the vehicle gradually drew nearer; and when 
she was enabled to see a female form in it by the side of a 
black in livery, her limbs shook with an agitation that 
compelled her to lean on Sarah for support. In a few 
minutes the travellers approached the gate. It was thrown 40 
open by a dragoon who followed the carriage, and who had 


148 


THE SPY 


been the messenger despatched by Dunwoodie to the father 
of Captain Singleton. Miss Peyton advanced to receive 
their guest, and the sisters united in giving her the kindest 
welcome; still Frances could with difficulty withdraw her 
5 truant eyes from the countenance of their visitor. She 
was young, and of a light and fragile form, but of exquisite 
proportions. Her eye was large, full, black, piercing, and 
at times a little wild. Her hair was luxuriant, and as it 
was without the powder it was then the fashion to wear, 
lo it fell in raven blackness. A few of its locks had fallen on 
her cheek, giving its chilling whiteness by the contrast a 
more deadly character. Dr. Sitgreaves supported her from j 
the chaise; and when she gained the floor of the piazza, i 
she turned an expressive look on the face of the practitioner, i 
15 “Your brother is out of danger, and wishes to see you, I 
Miss Singleton,’’ said the surgeon. I 

The lady burst into a flood of tears. Frances had stood ] 
contemplating the action and face of Isabella with a kind 
of uneasy admiration, but she now sprang to her side with 
20 the ardour of a sister, and kindly drawing her arm within 
her own, led the way to a retired room. The movement 
was so ingenuous, so considerate, and so delicate, that even 
Miss Peyton withheld her interference, following the youth- 
ful pair with only her eyes and a smile of complacency. 

25 The feeling was communicated to all the spectators, and 
they dispersed in pursuit of their usual avocations. Isa- 
bella yielded to the gentle influence of Frances without 
resistance; and, having gained the room where the latter 
conducted her, wept in silence on the shoulder of the ob- 
30 servant and soothing girl, until Frances thought her tears 
exceeded the emotion natural to the occasion. The sobs 
of Miss Singleton for a time were violent and uncontrollable, 
until, with an evident exertion, she yielded to a kind obser- 
vation of her companion, and succeeded in suppressing her 
35 tears. Raising her face to the eyes of Frances, she rose, 
while a smile of beautiful radiance passed over her features; 
and making a hasty apology for the excess of her emotion, 
she desired to be conducted to the room of the invalid. 

The meeting between the brother and sister was warm, 

40 but, by an effort on the part of the lady, more composed 
than her previous agitation had given reason to expect. 


THE SPY 


149 


Isabella found her brother looking better, and in less danger 
than her sensitive imagination had led her to suppose. 
Her spirits rose in proportion; from despondency, she 
passed to something like gayety ; her beautiful eyes sparkled 
with renovated brilliancy; and her face was lighted with 5 
smiles so fascinating, that Frances, who, in compliance 
with her earnest entreaties, had accompanied her to the 
sick chamber, sat gazing on a countenance that possessed 
so wonderful variability, impelled by a charm that was 
beyond her control. The youth had thrown an earnest 16 
look at Frances, as soon as his sister raised herself from his 
arms, and perhaps it was the first glance at the lovely 
lineaments of our heroine, when the gazer turned his eyes 
from the view in disappointment. He seemed bewildered, 
rubbed his forehead like a man awaking from a dream, and 15 
mused. 

“Where is Dunwoodie, Isabella?’' he said; “the excel- 
lent fellow is never weary of kind actions. After a day of 
such service as that of yesterday, he has spent the night 
in bringing me a nurse, whose presence alone is able to 20 
raise me from my couch.” 

The expression of the lady’s countenance changed; her 
eye roved round the apartment with a character of wild- 
ness in it that repelled the anxious Frances, who studied 
her movements with unabated interest. 25 

“ Dunwoodie ! is he then not here ? I thought to have 
met him by the side of my brother’s bed.” 

“He has duties that require his presence elsewhere: the 
English are said to be out by the way of the Hudson, and 
they give us light troops but little rest : surely nothing 30 
else could have kept him so long from a wounded friend. 
But, Isabella, the meeting has been too much for you; you 
tremble.” 

Isabella made no reply : she stretched her hand towards 
the table which held the nourishment of the Captain, and 35 
the attentive Frances comprehended her wishes in a moment. 

A glass of water in some measure revived the sister, who 
was enabled to say — 

“Doubtless it is his duty. ’Twas said above, a royal 
party was moving on the river; though I passed the troops 40 
but two miles from this spot.” The latter part of the sen- 


150 


THE SPY 


tence was hardly audible, and it was spoken more in the 
manner of a soliloquy, than as if intended for the ears of 
her companions. 

“On the march, Isabella?'’ eagerly enquired her brother. 

5 “No, dismounted, and seemingly at rest,” was the reply. 

The wondering dragoon turned his gaze on the counte- 
nance of his sister, who sat with her eye bent on the carpet 
in unconscious absence, but found no explanation. His 
look was changed to the face of Frances, who, startled by 
lo the earnestness of his expression, arose, and hastily en- 
quired if he would have any assistance. 

“If you can pardon the rudeness,” said the wounded 
officer, making a feeble effort to raise his body, “I w^ould 
request to have Captain Lawton’s company fdr a moment.” 
15 Frances hastened instantly to communicate his wish to 
that gentleman, and, impelled by an interest she could 
not control, she returned again to her seat by the side of 
Miss Singleton. 

“ Lawton,” said the youth, impatiently, as the trooper 
20 entered, ‘Hiear you from the Major?” 

The eye of the sister was now bent on the face of the 
trooper, who made his salutations to the lady with ease, 
blended with the frankness of a soldier. 

“His man has been here twice,” he said, “to enquire 
25 how we fared in the Lazaretto.”® 

“ And why not himself?” 

“That is a question the Major can answer best; but you 
know the red-coats are abroad, and Dunwoodie commands 
in the county; these English must be looked to.” 

30 “True,” said Singleton, slowly, as if struck with the 
other’s reasons ; “ but how is it that you are idle, when 
there is work to do?” 

“ My sword arm is not in the best condition, and Roanoke 
has but a shambling gait this morning; besides, there is 
35 another reason I could mention, if it were not that Miss 
Wharton Avould never forgive me.” 

“Speak, I beg, without dread of my displeasure,” said 
Frances, returning the good-humoured smile of the trooper, 
with the archness natural to her own sweet face. 

40 “The odours of your kitchen, then,” cried Lawton 
bluntly, “forbid my quitting the domains, until I qualify 


THE SPY 


151 


myself to speak with more certainty concerning the fatness 
of the land/’ 

“Oh! aunt Jeanette is exerting herself to do credit to 
my father’s hospitality,” said the laughing girl, “and I am 
a truant from her labours, as I shall be a stranger to her 5 
favour, unless I proffer my assistance.” 

Frances withdrew to seek her aunt, musing deeply on 
the character and extreme sensibility of the new acquaint- 
ance chance had brought to the cottage. 

The wounded officer followed her with his eyes, as she 10 
moved, with infantile grace, through the door of his apart- 
ment, and as she vanished from his view, he observed — 

“Such an aunt and niece are seldom to be met with, 
Jack; this seems a fairy, but the aunt is angelic.” 

“You are doing well, I see; your enthusiasm for the sex 15 
holds its own.” 

“ I should be ungrateful as well as insensible, did I not 
bear testimony to the loveliness of Miss Peyton.” 

“A good motherly lady, but as to love, that is a matter 
of taste. A few years younger, with deference to her pru- 20 
dence and experience, would accord better with my fancy.” 

“She must be under twenty,” said the other, quickly. 

“ It depends on the way you count. If you begin at the 
heel of life, well; but if you reckon downward, as is most 
common, I think she is nearer forty.” 25 

“You have mistaken an elder sister for the aunt,” said 
Isabella, laying her fair hand on the mouth of the invalid; 
“you must be silent! your feelings are beginning to affect 
your frame.” 

The entrance of Dr. Sitgreaves, who, in some alarm, 30 
noticed the increase of feverish symptoms in his patient, 
enforced this mandate; and the trooper withdrew to pay 
a visit of condolence to Roanoke, who had been an equal 
sufferer with himself in their last night’s somerset. To 
his great joy, his man pronounced the steed to be equally 35 
convalescent with the master; and Lawton found that by 
dint of rubbing the animal’s limbs, several hours without 
ceasing, he was enabled to place his feet in what he called 
systematic motion. Orders were accordingly given to be 
in readiness to rejoin the troop at the Four Corners, as soon 40 
as his master had shared in the bounty of the approaching 
banquet. 


152 


THE SPY 


In the mean time, Henry Wharton entered the apart- 
ment of Wellmere, and by his sympathy succeeded in re- 
storing the Colonel to hi& own good graces. The latter 
was consequently enabled to rise, and prepared to meet a 
5 rival of whom he had spoken so lightly, and, as the result 
had proved, with so little reason, Wharton knew that 
their misfortune, as they both termed their defeat, was 
owing to the other’s rashness; but he forbore to speak of 
anything except the unfortunate accident which had de- 
lo prived the English of their leader, and to which he good- 
naturedly ascribed their subsequent discomfiture. 

“In short, Wharton,” said the Colonel, putting one leg 
out of bed, “ it may be called a combination of untoward 
events; your own ungovernable horse prevented my orders 
15 from being carried to the Major, in season to flank the 
rebels.” 

“ Very true,” replied the Captain, kicking a slipper 
towards the bed; “had we succeeded in getting a few good 
fires upon them in flank, we should have sent these bt'ave 
20 Virginians to the right about.” 

“Ay! and that in double quick time,” cried the Colonel, 
making the other leg follow its companion; “then it was 
necessary to rout the guides, you know, and the move- 
ment gave them the best possible opportunity to -charge.” 
25 “ Yes,” said the other, sending the second slipper after 

the first; “and this Major Dunwoodie never overlooks an 
advantage.” 

“ I think if we had the thing to do over again,” con- 
tinued the Colonel, raising himself on his feet, “ we might 
30 alter the case very materially, though the chief thing the 
rebels have now to boast of is my capture : they were re- 
pulsed, you saw, in their attempt to drive us from the 
wood.” 

“At least they would have been, had they made an 
35 attack,” said the Captain, throwing the rest of his clothes 
within reach of the Colonel. 

“Why that is the same thing,” returned Wellmere, be- 
ginning to dress himself; “to assume such an attitude as 
to intimidate your enemy, is the chief art of war.” 

40 “Doubtless, then, you may remember in one of their 
charges they were completely routed.” 


THE SPY 


153 


“True — true,” cried the Colonel, with animation: “had 
I been there to have improved that advantage, we might 
have turned the table on the Yankees;” saying which, he 
displayed still greater animation in completing his toilette; 
and he was soon prepared to make his appearance, fully 5 
restoi ed to his own good opinion, and fairly, persuaded that 
his capture was owing to casualties, absolutely beyond the 
control of man. 

The knowledge that Colonel Wellmere was to be a guest 
at the table, in no degree diminished the preparations 10 
which were already making for the banquet; and Sarah, 
after receiving the compliments of the gentleman, and 
making many kind enquiries after the state of his wounds, 
proceeded in person to lend her counsel and taste to one 
of those laboured entertainments, which, at that day, were 1 5 
so frequent in country life, and which are not entirely 
banished from our domestic economy at the present moment. 


CHAPTER XIII 


I will stand to and feed, 

Although my last. 

Tempest. 


The savour of preparation which had been noticed by 
Captain Lawton, began to increase within the walls of the 
cottage; certain sweet-smelling odours, that arose from 
the subterranean territories of Csesar, gave to the trooper 
5 the most pleasing assurances that his olfactory nerves, 
which on such occasions were as acute as his eyes o{i others, 
had faithfully performed their duty; and for the benefit of 
enjoying the passing sweets as they arose, the dragoon so 
placed himself at a window of the building, that not a 
lo vapour charged with the spices of the east, could exhale 
on its passage to the clouds, without first giving its incense 
to his nose. Lawton, however, by no means indulged 
himself in this comfortable arrangement, without first 
making such preparations to do meet honour to the feast 
15 as his scanty wardrobe would allow. The uniform of his 
corps was always a passport to the best tables, and this, 
though somewhat tarnished by faithful service and uncere- 
monious usage, was properly brushed and decked out for 
the occasion. His head, which nature had ornamented 
20 with the blackness of a crow, now shone with the white- 
ness of snow; and his bony hand, that so well became the 
sabre, peered from beneath a ruffle with something like 
maiden coyness. The improvements of the dragoon went 
no further, excepting that his boots shone with more than 
25 holiday splendour, and his spurs glittered in the rays of the 
sun, as became the pure ore of which they were composed. 

Csesar moved through the apartments with a face charged 
with an importance exceeding even that which had accom- 
panied him in his melancholy task of the morning. The 
30 black had early returned from the errand on which he had 
been despatched by the pedler, and, obedient to the com- 




154 


THE SPY 


155 


mands of his mistress, promptly appeared to give his 
services, where his allegiance was due; so serious, indeed, 
was his duty now becoming, that it was only at odd mo- 
ments he was enabled to impart to his sable brother, who 
had been sent in attendance on Miss Singleton to the 5 
Locusts, any portion of the wonderful incidents of the 
momentous night he had so lately passed. 'By ingeniously 
using, however, such occasions as accidentally offered, 
Caesar communicated so many of the heads of his tale, as 
served to open the eyes of his visitor to their fullest width. 10 
The gusto for the marvellous was innate in these sable 
worthies; and Miss Peyton found it necessary to inter- 
pose her authority, in order to postpone the residue of the 
history to a more befitting opportunity. 

‘‘Ah! Miss Jinnett,” said Caesar, shaking his head, and 15 
looking all that he expressed, “Twas awful to see Johnny 
Birch walk on a feet when he lie dead 1 ” 

This concluded the conversation; though the black 
promised himself the satisfaction, and did not fail to enjoy 
it, of having many a good gossip on the solemn subject at 20 
a future period. 

The ghost thus happily laid, the department of Miss 
Peyton flourished; and by the time the afternoon’s sun had 
travelled a two hours’ journey from the meridian, the 
formal procession from the kitchen to the parlour com- 25 
menced, under the auspices of CjEsar, who led the van, 
supporting a turkey on the palms of his withered hands, 
with the dexterity of a balance-master. 

Next followed the servant of Captain Lawton, bearing, 
as he marched stiffly, and walking wide, as if allowing 3 ° 
room for his steed, a ham of true Virginian flavour; a 
present from the spinster’s brother in Accomac. The sup- 
porter of this savoury dish kept his eye on his trust with 
military precision; and by the time he reached his desti- 
nation, it might be difficult to say which contained the 35 
most juice, his own mouth or the Accomac bacon. 

Third in the line was to be seen the valet of Colonel Well- 
mere, who carried in either hand chickens fricasseed, and 
oyster patties. 

After him marched the attendant of Dr. Sitgreaves, who 40 
had instinctively seized an enormous tureen, as most re- 


156 


THE SPY 


sembling matters he understood, and followed on in place, 
until the steams of the soup so completely bedimmed the 
spectacles -he wore, as a badge of office, that, on arriving 
at the scene of action, he was compelled to deposit his 
5 freight on the floor, until, by removing the glasses, he 
could see his way through the piles of reserved china and 
plate- warmers. 

Next followed another trooper, whose duty it was to 
attend on Captain Singleton; ^nd, as if apportioning his 
lo appetite to the feeble state of his master, he had contented 
himself with conveying a pair of ducks, roasted, until their 
tempting fragrance began to make him repent his having 
so lately demolished a breakfast that had been provided 
for his master’s sister, with another prepared for himself. 

15 The white boy, who belonged to the hous^ brought up 
the rear, groaning under the load of sundry dibhes of vege- 
tables, that the cook, by way of climax, had unwittingly 
heaped on him. 

But this was far from all of the preparations for that 
20 day’s feast. Caesar had no sooner deposited his bird, 
which, but the week before, had been flying amongst the 
highlands of Dutchess,® little dreaming of so soon heading 
such a goodly assemblage, than he turned mechanically on 
his heel, and took up his line of march again for the kitchen. 
25 In this evolution the black was imitated by his companions 
in succession, and another procession to the parlour fol- 
lowed in the same order. By this admirable arrangement, 
whole flocks of pigeons, certain bevies of quails, shoals of 
flat-fish, bass, and sundry woodcock, found their way into 
30 the presence of the company. 

A third attack brought suitable quantities of potatoes, 
onions, beets, cold-slaw, rice, and all the other minutiae of 
a goodly dinner. 

The board now fairly groaned with American profusion; 
35 and Caesar, glancing his eye over the show with a most- 
approving conscience, after re-adjusting every dish that 
had not been placed on the table with his own hands, pro- 
ceeded to acquaint the mistress of the revels that his task 
was happily accomplished. 

4 ° Some half-hour before the culinary array just recorded 
took place, all the ladies disappeared, much in the same 


THE SPY 


157 


unaccountable manner that swallows flee the approach of 
winter. But the spring-time of their return had arrived, 
and the whole party were collected in an apartment that, 
in consequence of its containing no side-table, and being 
furnished with a chintz coverlet settee, was termed a with- 5 
drawing-room. 

The kind-hearted spinster had deemed the occasion 
worthy, not only of extraordinary preparations in the 
culinary department, but had seen proper to deck her own 
person in garments suited to the guests whom it was now 10 
her happiness to entertain. 

On her head Miss Peyton wore a cap of exquisite lawn, 
which was ornamented in front with a broad border of lace, 
that spread from the face in such a manner as to admit of 
a display of artificial flowers, clustered in a group on the 15 
summit of her fine forehead. 

The colour of her hair was lost in the profusion of powder 
with which it was covered; but a slight curling of the 
extremities in some degree relieved the formality of its 
arrangement, and gave a look of feminine softness to the 20 
features. 

Her dress was a rich, heavy silk, of violet colour, cut low 
around the bust, with a stomacher of the same material, 
that fitted close to the figure, and exhibited the form, 
from the shoulders to the waist, in its true proportions. 25 
Below, the dress was full, and sufficiently showed that 
parsimony in attire was not a foible of the day. A small 
loop displayed the beauty of the fabric to advantage, and 
aided in giving majesty to the figure. 

The tall stature of the lady was heightened by shoes of 30 
the same material with the dress, whose heels added more 
than an inch to the liberality of nature. 

The sleeves were short, and close to the limb, until they 
fell off at the elbows in large ruffles, that hung in rich pro- 
fusion from the arm when extended; and duplicates and 35 
triplicates of lawn, trimmed with Dresden lace, lent their 
aid in giving delicacy to a hand and arm that yet retained 
their whiteness and symmetry. A treble row of large 
pearls closely encircled her throat; and a handkerchief of 
lace partially concealed that part of the person that the 40 
silk had left exposed, but which the experience of forty 
years had warned Miss Peyton should now be veiled. 


158 


THE SPY 


Thus attired, and standing erect with the lofty grace that 
distinguished the manners of that day, the maiden would 
have looked into nothingness a bevy of modern belles. 

The taste of Sarah had kept even pace with the decora- 
5 tions of her aunt; and a dress, differing in no respect from 
the one just described, but in material and tints, exhibited 
her imposing form to equal advantage. The satin of her 
robe was of a pale bluish colour. Twenty years did not, 
however, require the screen that was prudent in forty, and 
lo nothing but an envious border of exquisite lace hid, in 
some measure, what the satin left exposed to view. The 
upper part of the bust, and the fine fall of the shoulders, 
were blazing in all their native beauty, and, like the aunt, 
the throat was ornamented by a treble row of pearls, to 
15 correspond with which were rings of the same quality in 
the ears. The head was without a cap, and the hair drawn 
up from the countenance so as to give to the eye all the 
loveliness of a forehead as polished as marble and as white 
as snow. A few straggling curls fell gracefully on the 
20 neck, and a bouquet of artificial flowers was also placed, 
like a coronet, over her brow. 

Miss Singleton had resigned her brother to the advice of 
Dr. Sitgreaves, who had succeeded in getting his patient 
into a deep sleep, after quieting certain feverish symptoms 
25 that followed the agitation of the interview. The sister 
was persuaded, by the observant mistress of the mansion, 
to make one of the party, and she sat by the side of Sarah, 
differing but little in appearance from that lady, except in 
refusing the use of powder on her raven locks, and that 
30 her unusually high forehead, and large, brilliant eyes, gave 
an expression of thoughtfulness to her features, that was 
possibly heightened by the paleness of her cheek. , 

Last and least, but not the most unlovely, in this dis- 
play of female charms, was the youngest daughter of Mr. 
35 Wharton. Frances, we have already mentioned, left the 
city before she had attained to the age of fashionable 
womanhood. A few adventurous spirits were already 
beginning to make inroads in those customs which had so 
long invaded the comforts of the fair sex; and the youth- 
40 ful girl had ventured to trust her beauty to the height 
which nature had bestowed. This was but little, but that 




THE SPY 


159 


little was a masterpiece. Frances several times had deter- 
mined, in the course of the morning, to bestow more than 
usual pains in the decoration of her person. Each time, 
in succession, as she formed this resolution, she spent a 
few minutes in looking earnestly towards the north, and 5 
then she as invariably changed it. 

At the appointed hour, our heroine appeared in the 
drawing-room, clothed in a robe of pale blue silk, of a cut 
and fashion much like that worn by her sister. Her hair 
was left to the wild curls of nature, its exuberance being 10 
confined to the crown of her head by a long, low comb, 
made of light tortoise-shell; a colour barely distinguish- 
able in the golden hue of her tresses. Her dress was with- 
out a plait or a wrinkle, and fitted the form with an exacti- 
tude that might lead one to imagine the arch girl more 15 
than suspected the beauties it displayed. A tucker of rich 
Dresden lace softened the contour of the figure. Her head 
was without ornament; but around her throat was a neck- 
lace of gold clasped in front with a rich cornelian. ° 

Once, and once only, as they moved towards the repast, 20 
did Lawton see a foot thrust itself from beneath the folds 
of her robe, and exhibit its little beauties encased in a 
slipper of blue silk, clasped close to the shape by a buckle 
of brilliants. The trooper caught himself sighing as he 
thought, though it was good for nothing in the stirrup, 25 
how enchantingly it would grace a minuet. 

As the black appeared on the threshold of the room, 
making a low reverence, which has been interpreted for 
some centuries into “dinner waits,” Mr. Wharton, clad in 
a dress of drab, bedecked with enormous buttons, advanced 30 
formally to Miss Singleton, and bending his powdered 
head nearly to the level of the hand he extended, received 
hers in return. 

Dr. Sitgreaves offered the same homage to Miss Peyton, 
and met with equal favour; the lady first pausing to draw 35 
on her gloves. 

Colonel Wellmere was honoured with a smile from Sarah, 
while performing a similar duty; and Frances gave the 
ends of her taper fingers to Captain Lawton with maiden 
bashfulness. 40 

Much time, and some trouble, were expended before the 


160 


THE SPY 


whole party were, to the great joy of Caesar, comfortably 
arranged around the table, with proper attention to all 
points of etiquette and precedence. The black well knew 
the viands were not improving; and though abundantly 
5 able to comprehend the disadvantage of eating a cold 
dinner, it greatly exceeded his powers of philosophy to 
weigh all th^e latent consequences to society which depend 
on social order. 

For the first ten minutes all but the Captain of dragoons 
lo found themselves in a situation much to their liking. Even 
Lawton would have been perfectly happy, had not excess 
of civility on the part of his host and Miss Jeanette Pey- 
ton, kept him from the more agreeable occupation of tast- 
ing dishes he did want, in order to decline those he did 
15 not. At length, however, the repast was fairly commenced, 
and a devoted application to the viands was more eloquent 
than a thousand words in favour of Dinah’s skill. 

Next came drinking with the ladies; but as the wine 
was excellent, and the glasses ample, the trooper bore this 
20 interruption with consummate good nature. Nay, so fear- 
ful was he of giving offence, and of omitting any of the 
nicer points of punctilio,® that having commenced this 
courtesy with the lady who sat next him, he persevered 
until not one of his fair companions could, with justice, j 
25 reproach him with partiality in this particular. I 

Long abstemiousness from any thing like generous wine | 
might plead the excuse of Captain Lawton, especially when I 
exposed to so strong a temptation as that now before him. 
Mr. Wharton had been one of a set of politicians in New 1 
30 York, whose principal exploits before the war had been to I 
assemble, and pass sage opinions on the signs of the times, 
under the inspiration of certain liquor made from a grape I 
that grew on the south side of the island of Madeira, and j 
which found its way into the colonies of North America 
35 through the medium of the West Indies, sojourning awhile 
in the Western Archipelago, by way of proving the virtues 
of the climate. A large supply of this cordial had been 
drawn from his storehouse in the city, and some of it now 
sparkled in a bottle before the Captain, blushing in the I 
40 rays of the sun, which were passing obliquely through it, 
like amber. 

Though the meat and vegetables had made their en- 


THE SPY 


161 


trance with perfect order and propriety, their exeunt was 
effected much in the manner of a retreat of militia. The 
point was to clear the board something after the fabled 
practice of the harpies, and by dint of scrambling, tossing, 
breaking, and spilling, the remnants of the overflowing 5 
repast disappeared. And now another series of processions 
commenced, by virtue of which, a goodly display of pastry, 
with its usual accompaniments, garnished the table. 

Mr. Wharton poured out a glass of wine for the lady 
who sat on his right hand, and, pushing the bottle to a 10 
guest, said, with a low bow — • 

“ We are to be honoured with a toast from Miss Singleton.” 
Although there was nothing more in this movement than 
occurred every day on such occasions, yet the lady trembled, 
coloured, and grew pale again, seemingly endeavouring to 15 
rally her thoughts, until, by her agitation, she had excited 
the interest of the whole party; when, by an effort, and in 
a manner as if she had striven in vain to think of another, 
Isabella said, faintly — 

I “Major Dunwoodie.” 20 

' The health was drunk cheerfully by all but Colonel Well- 
mere, who wet his lips, and drew figures on the table with 
some of the liquor he had spilt. 

At length Colonel Wellmere broke silence by saying aloud 
|to Captain Lawton — 25 

; “I suppose, sir, this Mr. Dunwoodie will receive pro- 
motion in the rebel army, for the advantage my misfortune 
gave him over my command.” 

The trooper had supplied the wants of nature to his per- 
fect satisfaction; and, perhaps, with the exception of 30 
Washington and his immediate commander, there was no 
mortal whose displeasure he regarded a tittle. First help- 
ing himself, therefore, to a little of his favourite bottle, he 
replied with admirable coolness — 

“Colonel Wellmere, your pardon; Major Dunwoodie 35 
owes his allegiance to the confederated states of North 
America, and where he owes it, he pays it. Such a man is 
no rebel. Promoted I hope he may be, both because he 
deserves it, and because I am next in rank in the corps; 
and I know not what you call a misfortune, unless you 40 
deem meeting the Virginia horse as such.” 

M 


162 


THE SPY 


“We will not differ about terms, sir,” said the Colonel, 
haughtily; ‘‘I spoke as duty to my sovereign prompted; 
but do you not call the loss of a commander a misfortune 
to a party ? ” 

5 • “It certainly may be so,” said the trooper, with emphasis. 

“Miss Peyton, will you favour us with a toast?” cried 
the master of the house, anxious to stop this dialogue. 

The lady bowed her head with dignity, as she named 
“General Montrose;” and the long-absent bloom stole 
lo lightly over her features. 

“There is no term more doubtful than that word mis- 
fortune,” said the surgeon, regardless of the nice manoeuvres 
of the host; “some deem one thing a misfortune, others 
its opposite: misfortune begets misfortune: life is a mis- 
15 fortune, for it may be the means of enduring misfortune; 
and death is a misfortune, as it abridges the enjoyments of 
life.” 

“It is a misfortune that our mess has no such wine as 
this,” interrupted the trooper. 

20 “We will pledge you a sentiment in it, sir, as it seems to 
suit your taste,” said Mr. Wharton. 

Lawton filled to the brim, and drank, “A speedy peace, 
or a stirring war.” 

“ I drink your toast, Captain Lawton, though I greatly 
25 distrust your construction of activity,” said the surgeon. 
“In my poor judgment, cavalry should be kept in the 
rear, to improve a victory, and not sent in front to gain 
it. Such may be said to be their natural occupation, if 
the term can be used in reference to so artificial a body; 
30 for all history shows that the horse have done most when 
properly held in reserve.” 

This dissertation, uttered in a sufficiently didactic man- 
ner, was a hint that Miss Peyton did not neglect. She 
arose and retired, followed by her juniors. 

35 Nearly at the same moment, Mr. Wharton and his son 
made an apology for their absence, which was required on 
account of the death of a near neighbour, and withdrew. 

The retreat of the ladies was the signal for the appear- 
ance of the surgeon’s segar, which, being established in a 
40 corner of his mouth, in a certain knowing way, caused not 
the slightest interruption to his discourse — 


THE SPY 


163 


“If any thing can sweeten captivity and wounds, it 
must be the happiness of suffering in the society of the 
ladies who have left us,” gallantly observed the Colonel, as 
he resumed his seat after closing the door. 

“Sympathy and kindness have their influence on the 5 
human system,” returned the surgeon, knocking the ashes 
from his segar, with the tip of a little finger, in the manner 
of an adept. “The connection is intimate between the 
moral and physical feelings; but still, to accomplish a 
cure, and restore nature to the healthy tone it has lost 10 
from disease or accident, requires more than can flow from 
unguided sympathies. In such cases, the lights” — the 
surgeon accidentally caught the eye of the trooper, and he 
paused. Taking two or three hasty puffs, he essayed to 
finish the sentence — “In such cases, the knowledge that 15 
flows from the lights — ” 

“You were saying, sir — ” said Colonel Wellmere, sip- 
ping his wine — • 

“The purport of my remark went to say,” continued 
Sitgreaves, turning his back on Lawton, “ that a bread 20 
poultice would not set a broken arm.” 

“More is the pity,” cried the trooper, “for next to eat- 
ing, the nourishment could not be more innocently applied.” 

“To you. Colonel Wellmere,” said the surgeon, “as a 
man of education, I can with safety appeal.” The Colonel 25 
bowed. “You must have observed the dreadful havoc 
made in your ranks by the men who were led by this gentle- 
man;” the Colonel looked grave, again; “how, when 
blows lighted on their frames, life was invariably extin- 
guished, beyond all hope of scientific reparation : how cer- 30 
tain yawning wounds were inflicted, that must set at de- 
fiance the art of the most experienced practitioner; now, 
sir, to you I triumphantly appeal, therefore, to know 
whether your detachment would not have been as effectu- 
ally defeated, if the men had all lost a right arm, for in- 35 
stance, as if they had all lost their heads.” 

“The triumph of your appeal is somewhat hasty, sir,” 
said Wellmere. 

“Is the cause of liberty advanced a step by such inju- 
dicious harshness in the field?” continued the surgeon, 4 ° 
bent on the favourite principle of his life. 


164 


THE SPY 


“I am yet to learn that the cause of liberty is in any 
manner advanced by the services of any gentleman in the 
rebel army/’ rejoined the Colonel. 

“Not liberty! Good God, for what then are we con- 
5 tending?” 

“Slavery, sir; yes, even slavery; you are putting the 
tyranny of a mob on the throne of a kind and lenient 
prince; where is the consistency of your boasted liberty?” 

“Consistency!” repeated the surgeon, looking about 
lo him a little wildly, at hearing such sweeping charges against 
a cause he had so long thought holy. 

“Ay, sir, your consistency. Your congress of sages have 
published a manifesto, wherein they set forth the equality 
of political rights.” 

15 “’Tis true, and it is done most ably.” 

“I say nothing of its ability; but if true, why not set 
your slaves at liberty?” This argument, which is thought 
by most of the Colonel’s countrymen a triumphant answer 
to a thousand eloquent facts, lost none of its weight by the 
20 manner in which it was uttered. 

Every American feels humbled at the necessity of vindi- 
cating his country from the apparent inconsistency and 
injustice of the laws alluded to. His feelings are much like 
those of an honourable man who is compelled to exonerate 
25 himself from a disgraceful charge, although he may know 
the accusation to be false. At the bottom, Sitgreaves had 
much good sense, and thus called on, he took up the cudgels 
of argument in downright earnest. 

“We deem it a liberty to have the deciding voice in the 
30 councils by which we are governed. We think it a hardship 
to be ruled by the king of a people who live at a distance 
of three thousand miles, and who cannot, and who do not, 
feel a single political interest in common with ourselves. 
I say nothing of oppression; the child was of age, and was 
35 entitled to the privileges of majority. In such cases, there 
is but one tribunal to which to appeal for a nation’s rights 
— it is power, and we now make the appeal.” 

“Such doctrines may suit your present purposes,” said 
Wellmere, with a sneer; “but I apprehend it is opposed to 
40 all the opinions and practices of civilised nations.” 

“It is in conformity with the practices of all nations,” 


THE SPY 


165 


said the surgeon, returning the nod and smile of Lawton, 
who enjoyed the good sense of his comrade as much as he 
disliked what he called ‘his medical talk.’ “Who would 
be ruled when he can rule? the only rational ground to 
take is, that every community has a right to govern itself, 5 
so that in no manner it violates the laws of God.” 

“ And is holding your fellow-creatures in bondage in con- 
formity to those laws?” asked the Colonel, impressively. 

The surgeon took another glass, and hemming once, 
returned to the combat. 10 

“Sir,” said he, “slavery is of very ancient origin, and it 
seems to have been confined to no particular religion or 
form of government; every nation of civilised Europe does, 
or has held their fellow-creatures in this kind of duresse” ° 

“You will except Great Britain, sir,” cried the Colonel, 15 
proudly. 

“No, sir,” continued the surgeon, confidently, feeling 
that he was now carrying the war out of his own country; 

“I cannot except Great Britain. It was her children, her 
ships, and her laws, that first introduced the practice into 20 
these states; and on her institutions the judgment must 
fall. There is not a foot of ground belonging to England, 
in which a negro would be useful, that has not its slave. 
England herself has none, but England is overflowing with 
physical force, a part of which she is obliged to maintain in 25 
the shape of paupers. The same is true of France, and most 
other European countries. So long as we were content to 
remain colonies, npthing was said of our system of domestic 
slavery; but now, when we are resolute to obtain as much 
freedom as the vicious system of metropolitan rule has left 3° 
us, that which is England’s gift has become our reproach. 
Will your master liberate the slaves of his subjects should he 
succeed in subduing the new states, or will he condemn 
the whites to the same servitude as that in which he has been 
so long content to see the blacks ? It is true, we continue 35 
the practice, but we must come gradually to the remedy, 
or create an evil greater than that which we endure at 
present; doubtless, as we advance, the manumission of our 
slaves will accompany us, until happily these fair regions 
shall exist, without a single image of the Creator that is held 4° 
in a state which disqualifies him to judge of that Creator’s 
goodness.” 


16G 


THE SPY 


It will be remembered that Dr. Sitgreaves spoke forty 
years ago, and Wellmere was unable to contradict his pro- 
phetic assertion.® 

Finding the subject getting to be knotty, the Englishman 
5 retired to the apartment in which the ladies had assembled ; 
and, seated by the side of Sarah, he found a more pleasing 
employment in relating the events of fashionable life in the 
metropolis, and in recalling the thousand little anecdotes 
of their former associates. Miss Peyton was a pleased 
lo listener, as she dispensed the bounties of the tea-table, 
and Sarah frequently bowed her blushing countenance to 
her needle-work, as her face glowed at the flattering remarks 
of her companion. 

The dialogue we have related established a perfect truce 
15 between the surgeon and his comrade; and’ the former 
having paid a visit to Singleton, they took their leave of the 
ladies, and mounted; the former to visit the wounded at 
the encampment, and the latter to rejoin his troop. But 
their movements were arrested at the gate by an occurrence 
20 that we shall relate in the next chapter. 


i 


CHAPTER XIV 


I see no more those white locks thinly spread 
Round the bald polish of that honour’d head: 

No more that meek, that suppliant look in prayer, 

Nor that pure faith that gave it force, are there : 

But he is blest, and I lament no more, 

A wise good man, contented to be poor. 

Crabbe. 

We have already said, that the customs of America leave 
the dead but a short time in the sight of the mourners; and 
the necessity of providing for his own safety had compelled 
the pedler to abridge even this brief space. In the confu- 
sion and agitation produced by the events we have recorded, 5 
the death of the elder Birch had occurred unnoticed; but 
a sufficient number of the immediate neighbours were hastily 
collected, and the ordinary rites of sepulture were now 
about to be paid to the deceased. It was the approach of 
this humble procession that arrested the movements of lo 
the trooper and his comrade. Four men supported the body 
on a rude bier; and four others walked in advance, ready 
to relieve their friends from their burden. The pedler 
walked next the coffin, and by his side moved Katy Haynes, 
with a most determined aspect of wo, and next to the 15 
mourners came Mr. Wharton and the English Captain. 
Two or three old men and women, with a few straggling 
boys, brought up the rear. Captain Lawton sat in his 
saddle, in rigid silence, until the bearers came opposite to 
his position, and then, for the first time, Harvey raised his 20 
eyes from the ground, and saw the enemy that he dreaded 
so near him. The first impulse of the pedler was certainly 
flight; but recovering his recollection, he fixed his eye 
on the coffin of his parent, and passed the dragoon with a 
firm step but swelling heart. The trooper slowly lifted 25 
his cap, and continued uncovered until Mr. Wharton and his 
son had moved by, when, accompanied by the surgeon, he 
rode leisurely in the rear, maintaining an inflexible silence. 

167 


168 


THE SPY 


Caesar emerged from the cellar kitchen of the cottage, 
and with a face of settled solemnity, added himself to the 
number of the followers of the funeral, though with an 
humble mien, and at a most respectful distance from the 
5 horsemen. The old negro had placed around his arm, a 
little above the elbow, a napkin of unsullied whiteness, it 
being the only time since his departure from the city that 
he had enjoyed an opportunity of exhibiting himself in the 
garniture of servile mourning. He was a great lover of 
lo propriety, and had been a little stimulated to this display 
b}'' a desire to show his sable friend from Georgia all the 
decencies of a New York funeral; and the ebullition of his 
zeal went off very well, producing no other result than a 
mild lecture from Miss Peyton at his return, on the fitness 
IS of things. The attendance of the black was thought well 
enough in itself; but the napkin was deemed a superfluous 
exhibition of ceremony, at the funeral of a man who had 
performed all the menial offices in his own person. 

The grave-yard was an enclosure on the grounds of Mr. 
20 Wharton, which had been fenced with stone, and set apart 
for the purpose, by that gentleman, some years before. 
It was not, however, intended as a burial-place for any of 
his own family. Until the fire, which raged as the British 
troops took possession of New York, had laid Trinity® in 
25 ashes, a goodly gilded tablet on its walls proclaimed the 
virtues of his deceased parents, and beneath a flag of marble, 
in one of the aisles of the church, their bones were left to 
moulder in aristocratical repose. Captain Lawton made 
a movement as if he was disposed to follow the procession, 
30 when it left the highway, to enter the field which contained 
the graves of the humble dead, but he was recalled to re- 
collection by a hint from his companion that he was taking 
the wrong road. 

“ Of all the various methods which have been adopted by 
35 man for the disposal of his earthly remains, which do you 
prefer. Captain Lawton?” said the surgeon, as they sepa- 
rated from the little procession: ‘Gn some countries the 
body is exposed to be devoured by wild beasts; in others 
it is suspended in the air to exhale its substance in the 
40 manner of decomposition ; in other regions it is consumed 
on the funeral pile, and, again, it is inhumed in the bowels 


THE SPY 


169 


of the earth; every people have their own particular fash- 
ion, and to which do you give the preference?" 

'‘All are agreeable," said the trooper, following the group 
they had left with his eyes; "though the speediest inter- 
ments give the cleanest fields. Of which are you an ad- 5 
mirer ?" 

“The last, as practised by ourselves, for the other three 
are destructive of all the opportunities for dissection; 
whereas, in the last, the coffin can lie in peaceful decency, 
while the remains are made to subserve the useful purposes 10 
of science. Ah ! Captain Lawton, I enjoy comparatively 
but few opportunities of such a nature, to what I expected 
on entering the army." 

“To what may these pleasures numerically amount in a 
year?" said the Captain, withdrawing his gaze from the 15 
grave-yard. 

“Within a dozen, upon my honour; my best picking is 
when the corps is detached ; for when we are with the main 
army, there are so many boys to be satisfied, that I seldom 
get a good subject. Those youngsters are as wasteful as 20 
prodigals, and as greedy as vultures." 

“A dozen!" echoed the trooper, in surprise; “why I 
furnish you that number with my own hands." 

“ Ah 1 Jack," returned the doctor, approaching the sub- 
ject with great tenderness of manner, “it is seldom I can do 25 
any thing with your patients; you disfigure^ them wofully; 
believe me, John, when I tell you as a friend that your 
system is all wrong; you unnecessarily destroy life, and then 
you injure the body so that it is unfit for the only use that 
can be made of a dead man." ^ 3° 

The trooper maintained a silence, which he thought would 
be the most probable means of preserving peace ^ between 
them; and the surgeon, turning his head from taking a last 
look at the burial, as they rode round the foot of the hill 
that shut the valley from their sight, continued with a 35 
suppressed sigh — 

“One might get a natural death from that grave-yard 
to-night, if there was but time and opportunity ! the patient 
must be the father of the lady we saw this morning." 

“The petticoat doctor! she with the Aurora Borealis 4° 
complexion," said the trooper, with a smile, that began to 


170 


THE SPY 


cause uneasiness to his companion; ‘‘but the lady was not 
the gentleman's daughter, only his medico-petticoat at- 
tendant; and the Harvey, whose name was made to rhyme 
with every word in her song, is the renowned pedler-spy." 

5 “ What ! he who unhorsed you ?" 

“No man ever unhorsed me. Dr. Sitgreaves," saM the 
dragoon, gravely; “I fell by a mischance of Roanoke; 
rider and beast kissed the earth together." 

“A warm embrace, from the love spots it left on your 
lo cuticle; 'tis a thousand pities that you cannot find where 
the tattling rascal lies hid." 

“ He followed his father's body." 

“And you let him pass !" cried the surgeon, checking his 
horse; “let us return immediately and take him; to- 
15 morrow you shall have him hanged. Jack, — and, damn 
him. I'll dissect him !" 

“Softly, softly, my dear Archibald, would you arrest a 
man while paying the last offices to a dead father? Leave 
him to me, and I pledge myself he shall have justice." 

20 The doctor muttered his dissatisfaction at any post- 
ponement of vengeance, but he was compelled to acquiesce, 
from a regard to his reputation for propriety; and they 
continued their ride to the quarters of the corps, engaged in 
various discussions concerning the welfare of the human 
25 body. 

Birch supported the grave and collected manner, that was 
thought becoming in a male mourner on such occasions, 
and to Katy was left the part of exhibiting the tenderness 
of the softer sex. There are some people, whose feelings 
30 are of such a nature, that they cannot weep unless it be in 
proper company, and the spinster was a good deal addicted 
to this congregational virtue. After casting her eyes round 
the small assemblage, the housekeeper found the counte- 
nances of the few females, who were present, fixed on her in 
35 solemn expectation, and the effect was instantaneous; 
the maiden really wept, and she gained no inconsiderate 
"sympathy, and some reputation for a tender heart, from the 
spectators. The muscles of the pedler's face were seen to 
move, and as the first clod of earth fell on the tenement of 
40 his father, sending up that dull, hollow sound, that speaks 
so eloquently the mortality of man, his whole frame was for 


THE SPY 


171 


an instant convulsed. He bent his body down, as if in. pain* 
his fingers worked while the hands hung lifeless by his side, 
and there was an expression in his countenance that seemed 
to announce a writhing of the soul ; but it was not unresisted, 
and it was transient. He stood erect, drew a long breath, s 
and looked around him with an elevated face, that even 
seemed to smile with a consciousness of having obtained the 
mastery. The grave was soon filled; a rough stone, placed 
at either extremity, marked its position, and the turf, whose 
faded vegetation was adapted to the fortunes of the deceased, lo 
covered the little hillock with the last office of seemliness. 
This office ended, the neighbours, who had officiously pressed 
forward to offer their services in performing this solemn 
duty, paused, and lifting their hats, stood looking towards 
the mourner, who now felt himself to be really alone in the 15 
world. Uncovering his head also, the pedler hesitated 
a moment, to gather energy, and spoke. 

My friends and neighbours,” he said, “ I thank you for 
assisting me to bury my dead out of my sight.” 

A solemn pause succeeded the customary address, and 20 
the group dispersed in silence, some few walking with the 
mourners back to their own habitation, but respectfully 
leaving them at its entrance. The pedler and Katy were 
followed into the building by one man, however, who was 
well known to the surrounding country by the significant 25 
term of ‘‘a speculator.” Katy saw him enter, with a heart 
that palpitated with dreadful forebodings, but Harvey civilly 
handed him a chair, and evidently was prepared for the 
visit. 

The pedler went to the door, and, taking a cautious glance 3° 
about the valley, quickly returned, and commenced the 
following dialogue — 

The sun has just left the top of the eastern hill ; my time 
presses me: here is the deed for the house and lot; every 
thing is done according to law.” 35 

The other took the paper, and conned its contents with a 
deliberation that proceeded partly from his caution, and 
partly from the unlucky circumstance of his education hav- 
ing been much neglected when a youth. The time occupied 
in this tedious examination was employed by Harvey in 40 
gathering together certain articles, which he intended to 


172 


THE SPY 


include in the stores that were to leave the habitation with 
himselL Katy had already enquired of the pedler, whether 
the deceased had left a will ; and she saw the Bible placed 
in the bottom of a new pack, which she had made for his 
5 accommodation, with a most stoical indifference; but as the 
six silver spoons were laid carefully by its side, a sudden 
twinge of her conscience objected to such a palpable waste 
of property, and she broke silence. 

“ When you marry, Harvey, you may miss those spoons.” 
lo “ I never shall marry.” 

‘^Well, if you don’t, there’s no occasion to make rash 
promises, even to yourself. One never knows v/hat one 
may do, in such a case. I should like to know, of what use 
so many spoons can be to a single man: for my part, I 
IS think it is a duty for every man who is well provided, to 
have a wife and family to maintain.” 

At the time when Katy expressed this sentiment, the 
fortune of women in her class of life consisted of a cow, a 
bed, the labours of their own hands in the shape of divers 
20 pillow-cases, blankets, and sheets, with, where fortune was 
unusually kind, a half-dozen silver spoons. The spinster 
herself had obtained all the other necessaries by her own 
industry and prudence, and it can easily be imagined that 
she saw the articles she had long counted her own, vanish in 
25 the enormous pack, with a dissatisfaction that was in no 
degree diminished by the declaration that had preceded the 
act. Harvey, however, disregarded her opinions and feel- 
ings, and continued his employment of filling the pack, 
which soon grew to something like the ordinary size of the 
30 pedler’s burden, 

“ I’m rather timersome about this conveyance,” said the 
purchaser, having at length waded through the covenants 
of the deed. 

“Why so?” 

35 “ Vm afraid it won’t stand good in law. I know that two 

of the neighbours leave home to-morrow morning, to have 
the place entered for confistication ; and if I should give 
forty pounds, and lose it all, ’twould be a dead pull-back to 
me.” 

40 “They can only take my right,” said the pedler; “pay 
me two hundred dollars, and the house is yours : you are a 


THE SPY 


173 


well-known Whig, and you at least they won’t trouble.” 

As Harvey spoke, there was a strange bitterness of manner, 
mingled with the shrewd care he expressed concerning the 
sale of his property. 

“ Say one hundred, and it is a bargain,” returned the man, s 
with a grin that he meant for a good-natured smile. 

A bargain !” echoed the pedler, in surprise; ‘‘ I thought 
the bargain already made.” 

Nothing is a bargain,” said the purchaser, with a chuckle, 
‘‘until papers are delivered, and the money paid in hand.” lo 

“You have the paper.” 

“ Ay, and will keep it, if you will excuse the money; come, 
say one hundred and fifty, and I won’t be hard; here — 
here is just the money.” 

The pedler looked from the window, and saw with dismay 15 
that the evening was fast advancing, and knew well that he 
endangered his life by remaining in the dwelling after dark; 
yet he could not tolerate the idea of being defrauded in this 
manner, in a bargain that had already been fairly made; 
he hesitated. 20 

“ Well,” said the purchaser, rising, “mayhap you can find 
another man to trade with between this and morning; but, 
if you don’t, your title won’t be worth much afterwards.” 

“Take it, Harvey,” said Katy, who felt it impossible to 
resist a tender like the one before her; for the purchase- 25 
money was in English guineas. Her voice roused the pedler, 
and a new idea seemed to strike him. 

“ I agree to the price,” he said; and, turning to the spin- 
ster, he placed part of the money in her hand, as he con- 
tinued — “had I other means to pay you, I would have lost 3° 
all, rather than have suffered myself to be defrauded of 
part.” 

“You maj^ lose all yet,” muttered the stranger, with a 
sneer, as he rose and left the building. 

“Yes,” said Katy, following him with her eyes; “he 35 
knows your failing, Harvey; he thinks with me, now the 
old gentleman is gone, you will want a careful body to take 
care of your concerns.” 

The pedler was busied in making arrangements for his 
departure, and he took no notice of this insinuation, while 40 
the spinster returned again to the attack. She had lived 


174 


THE SPY 


so many years in expectation of a termination to her hopes, 
so different from that which now seemed likely to occur, 
that the idea of separation began to give her more uneasiness 
than she had thought herself capable of feeling, about a 
5 man so destitute and friendless. 

“Have you another house to go to?” enquired Katy. 

“ Providence will provide me with a home.” 

“Yes,” said the housekeeper; “but maybe ’twill not be 
to your liking.” 

lo “ The poor must not be difficult.” 

“ I’m sure I’m any thing but a difficult body,” cried the 
spinster, very hastily; “but I love to see things becoming, 
and in their places; yet I wouldn’t be hard to persuade to 
leave this place myself. I can’t say I altogether like the 
15 ways of the people hereabouts.” 

“ The valley is lovely,” said the pedler, with fervour, “ and 
the people like all the race of man. But to me it matters 
nothing; all places are now alike, and all faces equally 
strange;” as he spoke he dropped the article he was packing 
20 from his hand, and seated himself on a chest, with a look of 
vacant misery. 

“Not so, not so,” said Katy, shoving her chair nearer to 
the place where the pedler sat; “not so, Harvey, you must 
know me at least; my face cannot be strange to you, 
25 certainly.” 

Birch turned his eyes slowly on her countenance, which 
exhibited more of feeling, and less of self, than he had ever 
seen there before: he took her hand kindly, and his own 
features lost some of their painful expression, as he said — 
30 “Yes, good woman, you, at least, are not a stranger to 
me; you may do me partial justice; when others revile me, 
possibly your feelings may lead jmu to say something in 
my defence.” 

“That I will; that I would!” said Katy, eagerly; “I 
35 will defend you, Harvey, to the last drop ; let me hear them 
that dare revile you ! you say true, Harvey, I am partial 
and just to you; what if you do like the king? I have 
often heard it said he was at the bottom a good man ; but 
there’s no religion in the old country, for everybody allows 
40 the ministers are desperate bad I” 

The pedler paced the floor in evident distress of mind; 


THE SPY 


175 


his eye had a look of wildness that Katy had never witnessed 
before, and his step was measured, with a dignity that 
appalled the housekeeper. 

“While my father lived,” murmured Harvey, unable to 
smother his feelings, “there was one who read my heart; 5 
and oh 1 what a consolation to return from my secret 
marches of danger, and the insults and wrongs that I suf- 
fered, to receive his blessing and his praise; but he is gone,” 
he continued, stopping and gazing wildly towards the corner 
that used to hold the figure of his parent, “ and who is there 10 
to do me justice?” 

“ Why, Harvey ! Harvey !” 

“ Yes, there is one who will, who must know me before 
I die ! Oh ! it is dreadful to die, and leave such a name 
behind me.” 15 

“ Don’t talk of dying, Harvey,” said the spinster, glancing 
her eye around the room, and pushing the wood in the fire 
to obtain a light from the blaze. 

The ebullition of feeling in the pedler was over. It had 
been excited by the events of the past day, and a vivid 20 
perception of his sufferings. It was not long, however, 
that passion maintained an ascendency over the reason of 
this singular man ; and perceiving that the night had already 
thrown an obscurity around objects without doors, he hastily 
threw his pack over his shoulders, and taking Katy kindly 25 
by the hand, in leave-taking — 

“ It is painful to part with even you, good woman,” he 
said; “but the hour has come, and I must go. What is 
left in the house is yours; to me it could be of no use, and 
it may serve to make you more comfortable. Farewell — 3° 
we shall meet hereafter.” 

“ In the regions of darkness,” cried a voice that caused the 
pedler to sink on the chest from which he had risen in de- 
spair. 

“ What 1 another pack, Mr. Birch, and so well stuffed so 35 
soon !” 

“Have you not done evil enough?” cried the pedler, 
regaining his firmness, and springing on his feet with energy ; 

“ is it not enough to harass the last moments of a dying man ; 
to impoverish me; what more would you have ?” 40 

“Your blood,” said the Skinner, with cool malignity. 


176 


THE SPY 


“And for money,” cried Harvey, bitterly; “like the 
ancient Judas, you would grow rich with the price of blood !” 

“ Ay ! and a fair price it is, my gentleman ; fifty guineas ; 
nearly the weight of that scare-crow carcass of yours in 
5 gold.” 

“Here,” said Katy, promptly; “here are fifteen guineas, 
and these drawers, and this bed, are all mine; if you will 
give Harvey but one hour’s start from the door, they shall 
be yours.” • 

lo “One hour?” said the Skinner, showing his teeth, and 
looking with a longing eye at the money. 

“But a single hour; here, take the money.” 

“ Hold ! ” cried Harvey; “ put no faith in the miscreant.” 

“She may do what she pleases with her faith,” said the 
IS Skinner, with malignant pleasure; “but I have the money 
in good keeping; as for you, Mr. Birch, we will bear your 
insolence, for the fifty guineas that are to pay for your 
gallows.” 

“Go on,” said the pedler, proudly; “take me to Major 
2oDunwoodie; he, at least, may be kind, although he may 
be just.” 

“ I can do better than by marching so far in such dis- 
graceful company; this Mr. Dunwoodie has let one or two 
Tories go at large; but the troop of Captain Lawton is 
25 quartered some half mile nearer, and his receipt will get me 
the reward as soon as his Major’s; how relish you the idea 
of supping with Captain Lawton, this evening, Mr. Birch?” 

“ Give me my money, or set Harvey free,” cried the spin- 
ster in alarm. 

30 “ Your bribe was not enough, good woman, unless there 

is money in this bed:” thrusting his bayonet through the 
ticking, and ripping it for some distance, he took a malicious 
satisfaction in scattering its contents about the room. 

“ If,” cried the housekeeper, losing sight of her personal 
35 danger, in care for her newly-acquired property, “ there is 
law in the land, I will be righted !” 

“ The law of the neutral ground is the law of the strongest ; 
but your tongue is not as long as my bayonet; you had, 
therefore, best not set them at loggerheads, or you might 
40 be the loser.” 

A figure stood in the shadow of the door, as if afraid to be 


THE SPY 


177 


seen in the group of Skinners ; but a blaze of light, raised 
by some articles thrown in the fire by his persecutors, showed 
the pedler the face of the purchaser of his little domain. 
Occasionally there was some whispering between this man 
and the Skinner nearest him, that induced Harvey to sus- 5 
pect he had been the dupe of a contrivance in which that 
wretch had participated. It was, however, too late to 
repine; and he followed the party from the house with a 
firm and collected tread, as if marching to a triumph, and 
not to a gallows. In passing through the yard, the leader 10 
of the band fell over a billet of wood, and received a mo- 
mentary hurt from the fall: exasperated at the incident, 
the fellow sprang on his feet, filling the air with execrations. 

“The curse of Heaven light on the log!” he exclaimed; 

“ the night is too dark for us to move in: throw that brand 15 
of fire in yon pile of tow, to light up the scene.” 

“Hold!” roared the speculator; “you’ll fire the house.” 

“ And see the father,” said the other, hurling the brand 
in the midst of the combustibles. In an instant the build- 
ing was in flames. “Come on; let us move towards the 20 
heights while we have light to pick our road.” 

“ Villain ! ” cried the exasperated purchaser, “ is this your 
friendship — this my reward for kidnapping the pedler?” 

“ ’Twould be wise to move more from the light, if you mean 
to entertain us with abuse, or we may see too well to miss our 25 
mark,” cried the leader of the gang. The next instant he 
was as good as his threat, but happily missed the terrified 
speculator and equally appalled spinster, who saw herself 
again reduced from comparative wealth to poverty, by the 
blow. Prudence dictated to the pair a speedy retreat; 3° 
and the next morning, the only remains of the dwelling of 
the pedler was the huge chimney we have already mentioned. 


N 


CHAPTER XV 


Trifles, light as air, 

Are to the jealous confirmations strong 
As proofs from holy writ. 

Moor of Venice. 

The weather, which had been mild and clear since the 
storm, now changed with the suddenness of the American 
climate. Towards evening the cold blasts poured down 
from the mountains, and flurries of snow plainly indicated 
5 that the month of November had arrived; a season whose 
temperature varies from the heats of summer to the cold of 
winter. Frances had stood at the window of her own 
apartment, watching the slow progress of the funeral pro- 
cession, with a melancholy that was too deep to be excited 
lo by the spectacle. There was something in the sad office 
that was in unison with her feelings. As she gazed around, 
she saw the trees bending to the force of the wind, that 
swept through the valley with an impetuosity that shook 
even the buildings; and the forest, that had so lately 
15 glittered in the sun with its variegated hues, was fast losing 
its loveliness, as the leaves were torn from the branches, 
and were driving irregularly before the eddies of the blast. 
A few of the southern dragoons, who were patrolling the 
passes which led to the encampment of the corps, could be 
20 distinguished at a distance on the heights, bending to their 
pommels as they faced the keen air which had so lately 
traversed the great fresh-water lakes, and drawing their 
watch-coats about them in tighter folds. 

Frances witnessed the disappearance of the wooden 
25 tenement of the deceased, as it was slowly lowered from 
the light of day; and the sight added to the chilling dreari- 
ness of the view. Captain Singleton was sleeping under 
the care of his own man, while his sister had been persuaded 
to take possession of her room, for the purpose of obtaining 
30 the repose of which her last night’s journeying had robbed 

178 


THE SPY 


179 


her. The apartment of Miss Singleton communicated with 
the room occupied by the sisters, through a private door, 
as well as through the ordinary passage of the house; this 
door was partly open, and Frances moved towards it, with 
the benevolent intention of ascertaining the situation of her 5 
guest, when the surprised girl saw her whom she had 
thought to be sleeping, not only awake, but employed in a 
manner that banished ail probability of present repose. 
The black tresses, that during the dinner had been drawn 
in close folds over the crowm of the head, were now loosened, 10 
and fell in profusion over her shoulders and bosom, impart- 
ing a slight degree of wildness to her countenance; the chill- 
ing white of her complexion was strongly contrasted with 
eyes of the deepest black, that were fixed in rooted atten- 
tion on a picture she held in her hand. Frances hardly 15 
breathed, as she was enabled, by a movement of Isabella, 
to see that it was the figure of a man in the well-known 
dress of the southern horse; but she gasped for breath, 
and instinctively laid her' hand on her heart to quell its 
throbbings, as she thought she recognised the lineaments 20 
that were so deeply seated in her own imagination. Frances 
felt she was improperly prying into the sacred privacy of 
another; but her emotions were too powerful to permit her 
to speak, and she drew back to a chair, where she still re- 
tained a view of the stranger, from whose countenance she 25 
felt it to be impossible to withdraw her eyes. Isabella was 
too much engrossed by her own feelings to discover the 
trembling figure of the witness to her actions, and she 
pressed tlie inanimate image to her lips, with an enthusiasm 
that denoted the most intense passion. The expression 30 
of the countenance of the fair stranger was so changeable, 
and the transitions were so rapid, that Frances had scarcely 
time to distinguish the character of the emotion, before it 
was succeeded by another, equally powerful and equally 
attractive. Admiration and sorrow were, however, the pre- 35 
ponderating passions; the latter was indicated by large 
drops that fell from her eyes on the picture, and which fol- 
lowed each other over her cheek at such intervals, as 
seemed to pronounce the grief too heavy to admit of the 
ordinary demonstrations of sorrow. Every movement of 4° 
Isabella was marked by an enthusiasm that was peculiar to 


180 


THE SPY 


her nature, and every passion in its turn triumphed in her 
breast. The fury of the wind, as it whistled round the angles 
of the building, was in consonance with those feelings, 
and she rose and moved to a window of her apartment. 

5 Her figure was now hid from the view of Frances, who 
was about to rise and approach her guest, when tones of a 
thrilling melody chained her in breathless silence to the 
spot. The notes were wild, and the voice not powerful, 
but the execution exceeded any thing that Frances had ever 
lo heard; and she stood, endeavouring to stifle the sounds 
of her own gentle breathing, until the following song was 
concluded: — 

Cold blow the blasts o’er the tops of the mountain, 

And bare is the oak on the hill ; 

1 5 Slowly the vapours exhale from the fountain, 

And bright gleams the ice-border’d rill; 

All nature is seeking its annual rest, 

But the slumbers of peace have deserted my breast. 

Long has the storm pour’d its weight on my nation, 

20 And long have her brave stood the shock; 

Long has our chieftain ennobled his station, 

A bulwark on liberty’s rock; — 

Unlicensed ambition relaxes its toil, 

Yet blighted affection represses my smile. 

25 Abroad the wild fury of winter is lowering, 

And leafless and drear is the tree ; 

But the vertical sun of the south appears pouring 
Its fierce killing heats upon me : — , 

Without, all the season’s chill symptoms begin — 

30 But the fire of passion is raging within. 


Frances abandoned her whole soul to the suppressed 
melody of the music, though the language of the song ex- 
pressed a meaning, which, united with certain events of 
that and the preceding day, left a sensation of uneasiness 
■35 in the bosom of the warm-hearted girl, to which she had 
hitherto been a stranger. Isabella moved from the window 
as her last tones melted on the ear of her admiring listener, 
and, for the first time, her eye rested on the pallid face of 
the intruder. A glow of fire lighted the countenance of both 


THE SPY 


181 


at the same instant, and the blue eye of Frances met the 
brilliant black one of her guest for a single moment, and both 
fell in abashed confusion on the carpet; they advanced, 
however, until they met, and had taken each other’s hand, 
before either ventured again to look her companion in the 5 
face. 

‘‘This sudden change in the weather, and perhaps the 
situation of my brother, have united to make me melan- 
choly, Miss Wharton,” said Isabella, in a low tone, and in 
a voice that trembled as she spoke. 10 

“ ’Tis thought you have little to apprehend for your 
brother,” said Frances, in the same embarrassed manner; 

“ had you seen him when he was brought in by Major Dun- 
woodie — ” 

Frances paused, with a feeling of conscious shame, for 15 
which she could not account; and, in raising her eyes, she 
saw Isabella studying her countenance with an earnestness 
that again drove the blood tumultuously to her temples. 

“You were speaking of Major Dunwoodic,” said Isabella, 
faintly. 20 

“ He was with Captain Singleton.” 

“Do you know Dunwoodie? have you seen him often ?’^ 
Once more Frances ventured to look her guest in the face, 
and again she met the piercing eyes bent on her, as if to 
search her inmost heart. “Speak, Miss Wharton; is Major 25 
Dunwoodie known to you?” 

“ He is my relative,” said Frances, appalled at the manner 
of the other. 

“A relative !” echoed Miss Singleton; “in what degree? 

— speak. Miss Wharton, I conjure you to speak.” .3° 

“ Our parents were cousins,” faintly replied Frances. 

“And he is to be your husband !” said the stranger, im- 
petuously. 

Frances felt shocked, and all her pride awakened, by this 
direct attack upon her feelings, and she raised her eyes from 35 
the floor to her interrogator a little proudly, when the pale 
cheek and quivering lip of Isabella removed her resentment 
in a moment. “ It is true ! my conjecture is true : speak 
to me. Miss Wharton; I conjure you, in mercy to my feel- 
ings, to tell me — do you love Dunwoodie?” There was a 40 
plaintive earnestness in the voice of Miss Singleton, that 


182 


THE SPY 


disarmed Frances of all resentment, and the only answer 
she could make was hiding her burning face between her 
hands, as she sunk back in a chair to conceal her confusion. 

Isabella paced the floor in silence for several minutes, 
5 until she had succeeded in conquering the violence of her 
feelings, when she approached the place where Frances yet 
sat, endeavouring to exclude the eyes of her companion from 
reading the shame expressed in her countenance, and, taking 
the hand of the other, she spoke with an evident effort at 
lo composure. 

“ Pardon me. Miss Wharton, if my ungovernable feelings 
have led me into impropriety ; the powerful motive — the 
cruel reason — she hesitated; Frances now raised her face, 
and their eyes once more met; they fell in each other’s 
15 arms, and laid their burning cheeks together. The embrace 
was long — was ardent and sincere — but neither spoke; 
and on separating, Frances retired to her own room without 
further explanation. 

While this extraordinary scene was acting in the room of 
20 Miss Singleton, matters of great importance were agitated 
in the drawing-room. The disposition of the fragments 
of such a dinner as the one we have recorded, was a task 
that required no little exertion and calculation. Notwith- 
standing several of the small game had nestled in the pocket 
25 of Captain Lawton’s man, and even the assistant of Dr. 
Sitgreaves had calculated the uncertainty of his remaining 
long in such good quarters, still there was more left, uncon- 
sumed, than the prudent Miss Peyton knew how to dispose 
of to advantage. Csesar and his mistress had, therefore, 
30 a long and confidential communication on this important 
business; and the consequence was, that Colonel Wellmere 
was left to the hospitality of Sarah Wharton. All the 
ordinary topics of conversation were exhausted, when the 
Colonel, with a little of the uneasiness that is in some degree 
35 inseparable from conscious error, touched lightly on the 
transactions of the preceding day. 

“ We little thought. Miss Wharton, when I first saw this 
Mr. Dunwoodie in your house in Queen Street,® that he was 
to be the renowned warrior he has proved himself,” said 
40 Wellmere, endeavouring to smile away his chagrin. 

“ Renowned, when we consider the enemy he overcame,” 


THE SPY 


183 


said Sarah, with consideration for her companion’s feelings, 

“ ’Twas most unfortunate, indeed, in every respect, that you 
met with the accident, or doubtless the royal arms would 
have triumphed in their usual manner.” 

“ And yet the pleasure of such society as this accident 5 
has introduced me to, would more than repay the pain of a 
mortified spirit and wounded body,” added the Colonel, 
in a manner of peculiar softness. 

“ I hope the latter is but trifling,” said Sarah, stooping to 
hide her blushes under the pretext of biting a thread from 10 
the work on her knee, 

“Trifling, indeed, compared to the former,” returned the 
Colonel, in the same manner, “Ah! Miss Wharton, it is 
in such moments that we feel the full value of friendship 
and sympathy.” 15 

Those who have never tried it cannot easily imagine what 
a rapid progress a warm-hearted female can make in love, 
in the short space of half an hour, particularly where there 
is a predisposition to the distemper. Sarah found the con- 
versation, when it began to touch on friendship and sym- 20 
pathy, too interesting to venture her voice with a reply. 
She, however, turned her eyes on the Colonel, and saw him 
gazing at her fine face with an admiration that was quite 
as manifest, and much more soothing, than any words could 
make it. 25 

Their t6te-a-t^te was uninterrupted for an hour; and 
although nothing that would be called decided, by an ex- 
perienced matron, was said by the gentleman, he uttered 
a thousand things that delighted his companion, who retired 
to her rest with a lighter heart than she had felt since the 30 
arrest of her brother by the Americans. 


CHAPTER XVI 


And let me the canakin clink, clink, 

And let me the canakin chnk. 

A soldier’s a man ; 

A life’s but a span ; 

Why then, let a soldier drink. 

Iago. 

The position held by the corps of dragoons, we have already 
said, was a favourite place of halting with their commander. 
A cluster of some half-dozen small and dilapidated buildings 
formed what, from the circumstance of two roads inter- 
5 secting each other at right angles, was called the village of 
the P'our Corners. As usual, one of the most imposing of 
these edifices had been termed, in the language of the day, 
“a house of entertainment for man and beast.’’ On a 
rough board suspended from the gallows-looking post that 
lo had supported the ancient sign, was, however, written in 
red chalk, “ Elizabeth Flanagan, her hotel , an ebullition of 
the wit of some of the idle wags of the corps. The matron, 
whose name had thus been exalted to an office of such un- 
expected dignity, ordinarily discharged the duties of a 
IS female sutler, washerwoman, and, to use the language of 
Katy Haynes, petticoat doctor to the troops. She was the 
widow of a soldier who had been killed in the service, and 
who, like herself, was a native of a distant island, and had 
early tried his fortune in the colonies of North America. 
20 She constantly migrated with the troops ; and it was seldom 
that they became stationary for two days at a time but the 
little cart of the bustling woman was seen driving into the 
encampment, loaded with such articles as she conceived 
would make her presence most welcome. With a celerity 
25 that seemed almost supernatural, Betty took up her ground 
and commenced her occupation. Sometimes the cart itself 
was her shop ; at others the soldiers made her a rude shelter 
of such materials as offered; but on the present occasion 

184 


THE SPY 


185 


she had seized on a vacant building, and, by dint of stuffing 
the dirty breeches and half-dried linen of the troopers into 
the broken windows, to exclude the cold, which had now 
become severe, she formed what she herself had pronounced 
to be “most illigant lodgings.” The men were quartered 5 
in the adjacent barns, and the officers collected in the “ Hotel 
Flanagan,” as they facetiously called head-quarters. Betty 
was well known to every trooper in the corps, could call each 
by his Christian or nickname, as best suited her fancy; 
and, although absolutely intolerable to all whom habit had 10 
not made familiar with her virtues, was a general favourite 
with these partisan warriors. Her faults were, a trifling 
love of liquor, excessive filthiness, and a total disregard of 
all the decencies of language; her virtues, an unbounded 
love for her adopted country, perfect honesty when dealing 15 
on certain known principles with the soldiery, and great 
good-nature. Added to these, Betty had the merit of being 
the inventor of that beverage which is so well known, 
at the present hour, to all the patriots who make a winter’s 
march between the commercial and political capitals of 20 
this great state, and which is distinguished by the name of 
“cock-tail.” Elizabeth Flanagan was peculiarly well quali- 
fied, by education and circumstances, to perfect this im- 
provement in liquors, having been literally brought up on its 
principal ingredient, and having acquired from her Virginian 25 
customers the use of mint, from its flavour in a julep ° to 
its height of renown in the article in question. Such, then, 
was the mistress of the mansion, who, reckless of the cold 
northern blasts, showed her blooming face from the door of 
the building to welcome the arrival of her favourite. Captain 3 ° 
Lawton, and his companion, her master in matters of 
surgery. 

“ Ah ! by my hopes of promotion, my gentle Elizabeth, 
but you are welcome !” cried the trooper, as he threw him- 
self from his saddle; “this villanous fresh- water gas from 35 
the Canadas has been whistling among my bones till they 
ache with the cold, but the sight of your fiery countenance 
is as cheering as a Christmas fire.” 

“ Now sure. Captain Jack, yee’s always full of your compli- 
mentaries,” replied the sutler, taking the bridle of her 4° 
customer; “but hurry in for the life of you, darling; the 


186 


THE SPY 


fences hereabouts are not so strong as in the Highlands, 
and there’s that within will warm both sowl and body.” 

‘‘So you have been laying the rails under contribution, 
I see: well, that may do for the body,” said the Captain, 
5 coolly; “but I have had a pull at a bottle of cut-glass with 
a silver stand, and I doubt my relish for your whiskey for 
a month to come.” 

“ If it’s silver or goold that yee’r thinking of, it’s but little 
I have, though I’ve a trifling bit of the continental,” said 
10 Betty, with a look of humour; “but there’s that within 
that’s fit to be put in vissels of di’monds.” 

“What can she mean, Archibald?” asked Lawton: “the 
animal looks as if it meant more than it says!” 

“ ’Tis probably a wandering of the reasoning powers^ 
IS created by the frequency of intoxicating draughts,” ob- 
served the surgeon, as he deliberately threw his left leg over 
the pommel of the saddle, and slid down on the right side 
of his horse. 

“Faith, my dear jewel of a doctor, but it was this side I 
20 was expicting you ; the whole corps come down on this side 
but yeerself,” said Betty, winking at the trooper: “but 
I’ve been feeding the wounded, in yeer absence, with the 
fat of the land.” 

“Barbarous stupidity!” cried the panic-stricken physi- 
25 cian, “to feed men labouring under the excitement of fever 
with powerful nutriment: woman, woman, you are enough 
to defeat the skill of Hippocrates !” ° 

“Pooh!” said Betty, with infinite composure, “what a 
botheration yee make about a little whiskey; there was but 
30 a gallon betwixt a good two dozen of them, and I gave it 
to the boys to make them sleep asy ; sure, Jist as slumbering 
drops.” 

Lawton and his companion now entered the building, and 
the first objects which met their eyes explained the hidden 
35 meaning of Betty’s comfortable declaration. A long table, 
made of boards torn from the side of an out-building, was 
stretched through the middle of the largest apartment, 
or the bar-room, and on it was a very scanty display of 
crockery ware. The steams of cookery arose from an ad- 
40 joining kitchen, but the principal attraction was in a demi- 
john of fair proportions, which had been ostentatiously 


THE SPY 


187 


placed on high by Betty as the object most worthy of notice. 
Lawton soon learnt that it was teeming with the real amber- 
coloured juice of the grape, and had been sent from the 
Locusts, as an offering to Major Dunwoodie, from his friend 
Captain Wharton, of the royal army. 5 

“And a royal gift it is,” said the grinning subaltern, who 
made the explanation. “The Major gives us an entertain- 
ment in honour of our victory, and you see the principal 
expense is borne, as it should be, by the enemy. Zounds, 

I am thinking that after we have primed with such stuff, 10 
we could charge through Sir Henry’s head-quarters, and 
carry off the knight himself.” 

The Captain of dragoons was in no manner displeased at 
the prospect of terminating so pleasantly a day that had 
been so agreeably commenced. He was soon surrounded 15 
by his comrades, who made many eager enquiries concerning 
his adventures, while the surgeon proceeded, with certain 
quakings of the heart, to examine into the state of his 
wounded. Enormous fires were snapping in the chimneys 
of the house, superseding the necessity of candles, by the 20 
bright light which was thrown from the blazing piles. The 
group within were all young men, and tried soldiers; in 
number they were rather more than a dozen, and their 
manners and conversation were a strange mixture of the 
bluntness of the partisan with the manners of gentlemen. 25 
Their dresses were neat, though plain; and a never-failing 
topic amongst them was the performance and quality of 
their horses. Some were endeavouring to sleep on the 
benches which lined the walls, some were walking the apart- 
ments, and others were seated in earnest discussion on sub- 30 
jects connected with the business of their lives. Occasion- 
ally, as the door of the kitchen opened, the hissing sounds 
of the frying-pans and the inviting savour of the food created 
a stagnation in all other employments; even the sleepers, 
at such moments, would open their eyes, and raise their 35 
heads, to reconnoitre the state of the preparations. All 
this time Dunwoodie sat by himself, gazing at the fire, 
and lost in reflections which none of his officers presumed 
to disturb. He had made earnest enquiries of Sitgreaves 
after the condition of Singleton, during which a profound 4° 
and respectful silence was maintained in the room; but as 


188 


THE SPY 


soon as he had ended, and resumed his seat, the usual ease 
and freedom prevailed. 

The arrangement of the table was a matter of but little 
concern to Mrs. Flanagan ; and Caesar would have been sadly 
5 scandalised at witnessing the informality with which various 
dishes, each bearing a wonderful resemblance to the others, 
were placed before so many gentlemen of consideration. 
In taking their places at the board, the strictest attention 
was paid to precedency; for, notwithstanding the freedom 
lo of manners which prevailed in the corps, the points of 
military etiquette were at all times observed, with some- 
thing approaching to religious veneration. Most of the 
guests had been fasting too long to be in any degree fastid- 
ious in their appetites; but the case was different with 
15 Captain Lawton; he felt an unaccountable loathing at the 
exhibition of Betty’s food, and could not refrain from 
making a few passing comments on the condition of the 
knives, and the clouded aspect of the plates. The good- 
nature and the personal affection of Betty for the offender, 
20 restrained her, for some time, from answering his innuendoes, 
until Lawton, having ventured to admit a piece of the black 
meat into his mouth, enquired, with the affectation of a 
spoiled child, — 

“What kind of animal might this have been when living, 
25 Mrs. Flanagan?” 

“Sure, Captain, and wasn’t it the ould cow,” replied the 
sutler, with a warmth that proceeded partly from dissatis- 
faction at the complaints of her favourite, and partly from 
grief at the loss of the deceased. 

30 “What!” roared the trooper. Stopping short as he was 
about to swallow his morsel, “ancient Jenny!” 

“The devil!” cried another, dropping his knife and fork, 
“she who made the campaign of the Jerseys with us?” 

“The very same,” replied the mistress of the hotel, with 
35 a piteous aspect of woe ; “ a gentle baste, and one that could 
and did live on less than air, at need. Sure, gentlemen, 
’tis awful to have to eat sitch an ould friend.” 

“And has she sunk to this?” said Lawton, pointing with 
his knife to the remnants on the table. 

40 “Nay, Captain,” said Betty, with spirit, “I sould two of 
her quarters to some of your troop ; but divil the word did 


THE SPY 


189 


I tell the boys what an ould frind it was they had bought, 
for fear it might damage their appetites/’ 

“Fury!” cried the trooper, with affected anger, “I shall 
have my fellows as limber as supple-jacks on such fare; 
afraid of an Englishman as a Virginian negro is of his 5 
driver.” 

“Well,” said Lieutenant Mason, dropping his knife and 
fork in a kind of despair, “my jaws have more sympathy 
than many men’s hearts. They absolutely decline making 
any impression on the relics of their old acquaintance.” 10 

“Try a drop of the gift,” said Betty, soothingly, pouring 
a large allowance of the wine into a bowl, and drinking it 
off as taster to the corps. “Faith, ’tis but a wishy-washy 
sort of stuff after all I” 

The ice once broken, however, a clear glass of wine was 1 5 
handed to Dunwoodie, who, bowing to his companions, 
drank the liquor in 4 :he midst of a profound silence. For a 
few glasses there was much formality observed, and sundry 
patriotic toasts and sentiments were duly noticed by the 
company. The liquor, however, performed its wonted 20 
office; and before the second sentinel at the door had been 
relieved, ail recollection of the dinner and their cares was 
lost in the present festivity. Dr. Sitgreaves did not return 
in season to partake of Jenny, but he was in time to receive 
his fair proportion of Captain Wharton’s present. 25 

“A song, a song from Captain Lawton !” cried two or three 
of the party in a breath, on observing the failure of some of 
the points of good-fellowship in the trooper; “silence, for 
the song of Captain Lawton.” 

“Gentlemen,” returned Lawton, his dark eyes swimming 30 
with the bumpers he had finished, though his head was as 
impenetrable as a post; “I am not much of a nightingale, 
but, under the favour of your good wishes, I consent to 
comply with the demand.” 

“Now, Jack,” said Sitgreaves, nodding on his seat, “re- 35 
member the air I taught you, and — stop, I have a copy of 
the words in my pocket.” 

“Forbear, forbear, good doctor,” said the trooper, filling 
his glass with great deliberation; “I never could wheel 
round those hard names. Gentlemen, I will give you an 40 
humble attempt of my own.” 


190 


THE SPY 


‘'Silence, for. Captain Lawton’s song!” roared five or 
six at once ; when the trooper proceeded, in a fine full tone, 
to sing the following words to a well-known bacchanalian 
air, several of his. comrades helping him through the chorus 
5 with a fervour that shook the crazy edifice they were in : — ■ 

Now push the mug, my jolly boys,® 

And live, while live we can, 

To-morrow’s sun may end your joys, 

For brief’s the hour of man. 
jQ And he who bravely meets the foe 

His lease of life can never know. 

Old mother Flanagan 
Come and fill the can again ; 

For you can fill, and we can swill, 

15 Good Betty Flanagan. , 

If love of life pervades your breast, 

Or love of ease your frame. 

Quit honour’s path for peaceful rest. 

And bear a coward’s name; 

20 For soon and late, we danger know. 

And fearless on the saddle go. 

Old mother, etc. 

When foreign foes invade the land. 

And wives and sweethearts call : 

25 In freedom’s cause we’ll bravely stand, 

Or will as bravely fall. 

In this fair home the fates have given. 

We’ll live as lords, or live in heaven. 

Old mother, etc. 


30 At each appeal made to herself, by the united voices of 
the choir, Betty invariably advanced and complied literally 
with the request contained in the chorus, to the infinite 
delight of the singers, and with no small participation in the 
satisfaction on her own account. The hostess was provided 
35 with a beverage more suited to the high seasoning to which 
she had accustomed her palate, than the tasteless present 
of Captain Wharton; by which means Betty had managed, 
with tolerable facility, to keep even pace with the exhila- 
ration of her guests. The applause received by Captain; 
40 Lawton was general, with the exception of the surgeon, who 


THE SPY 


191 


rose from the bench during the first chorus, and paced the 
floor, in a flow of classical indignation. The bravos and 
bra/issimos drowned all other noises for a short time; 
but as they gradually ceased, the doctor turned to the mu- 
sician, and exclaimed, with heat — 5 

‘‘Captain Lawton, I marvel that a gentleman, and a 
gallant officer, can find no other subject for his muse, in 
these times of trial, than in such beastly invocations to that 
notorious follower of the camp, the filthy Elizabeth Flana- 
^ gan. Methinks the goddess of Liberty could furnish a more lo 
’ no ole inspiration, and the sufferings of your country a more 
befitting theme.’’ 

“Heyday!” shouted the hostess, advancing towards him 
■“in a threatening attitude; “and who is it that calls me 
filthy? Master squirt ! Master pop-gun — ” 15 

“Peace!” said Dunwoodie, in a voice that was exerted 
but a little more than common, but which was succeeded 
by the stillness of death; “woman, leave the room. Dr 
Sitgreaves, I call you to your seat, to wait the order of the 
revels.” . 

“Proceed, proceed,” said the surgeon, drawing himself 
up in an attitude of dignified composure; “I trust, Major 
Dunwoodie, I am not unacquainted with the rules of > io- 
corum, nor ignorant of the bye-laws of good-fellowship.” 
Betty made a hasty but somewhat devious retreat to her 25 
own dominions, being unaccustomed to dispute the orders 
of the commanding officer. 

“Major Dunwoodie will honour us with a sentimental 
song,” said Lawton, bowing to his leader, with the collected 
manner he so well knew how to assume. _ 3 ° 

The Major hesitated a moment, and then sang, with fine 
execution, the following words : — 

Some love the lieats of southern suns, 

Where life’s warm current maddening runs, 

In one quick circling stream ; 35 

But dearer far’s the mellow light 
Which trembling shines, reflected bright 
In Luna’s milder beam. 

Some love the tulip’s gaudier dyes. 

Where deepening blue with yellow vies, 4° 




192 


THE SPY 


And gorgeous beauty glows ; 

But happier he, whose bridal wreath, 
By love entwined, is found to breathe 


The sweetness of the rose. 


5 The voice of Dunwoodie never lost its authority with his 
inferiors; and the applause which followed his song, though 
by no means so riotous as that which succeeded the effort 
of the Captain, was much more flattering. 

“If, sir,” said the doctor, after joining in the plaudits 
lo of his companions, “you would but learn to unite classical 
allusions with your delicate imagination, you would become 
a pretty amateur poet.” 

“He who criticises ought to be able to perform,” said 
Dunwoodie, with a smile. “I call on Dr. Sitgreaves for 
15 a specimen of the style he admires.” 

“Dr. Sitgreaves’ song! Dr. Sitgreaves’ song!” echoed 
. all at the table with delight; “a classical ode from Dr. 
eaves!” 



The surgeon made a complacent bow, took the remnant 
20 of his glass, and gave a few preliminary hems, that served 
hugely to delight three or four young cornets at the foot of 
he table. He then commenced singing, in a cracked voice, 
and to any thing but a tune, the following ditty : — 


Hast thou ever felt love’s dart, dearest. 
Or breathed his trembling sigh — 
Thought him, afar, was ever nearest. 
Before that sparkling eye ? 

Then hast thou known what ’tis to feel 
The pain that Galen could not heal. 


30 “Hurrah!” shouted Lawton: “Archibald eclipses the 
muses themselves; his words flow like the sylvan stream 
by moonlight, and his melody is a cross breed of the nightin- 
gale and the owl.” 

“Captain Lawton,” cried the exasperated operator, “it 
35 is one thing to despise the lights of classical learning, and 
another to be despised for your own ignorance ! ” 

A loud summons at the door of the building created a 
dead halt in the uproar, and the dragoons instinctively 
caught up their arms, to be prepared for the worst. The 


THE SPY 


193 


door was opened, and the Skinners entered, dragging in the 
pedler, bending beneath the load of his pack. 

‘‘Which is Captain Lawton?” said the leader of the gang, 
gazing around him in some little astonishment. 

“ He waits your pleasure,” said the trooper, dryly. 5 

“Then here I deliver to your hands a condemned traitor: 
this is Harvey Birch, the pedler spy.” 

Lawton started as he looked his old acquaintance in the 
face, and, turning to the Skinner with a lowering look, he 
asked — lo 

“ And who are you, sir, that speak so freely of your neigh- 
bours? — But,” bowing to Dunwoodie, “your pardon, sir; 
here is the commanding officer; to him you will please 
address yourself.” 

“No,” said the man, sullenly, “it is to you I deliver the 15 
pedler, and from you I claim my reward.” 

“Are you Harvey Birch?” said Dunwoodie, advancing 
with an air of authority that instantly drove the Skinner to 
a corner of the room. 

“I am,” said Birch, proudly. 20 

“And a traitor to your country,” continued the Major, 
with sternness; “do you know that I should be justified 
in ordering your execution this night?” 

“ ’Tis not the will of God to call a soul so hastily to his 
presence,” said the pedler, with solemnity. 25 

“You speak truth,” said Dunwoodie; “and a few brief 
hours shall be added to your life. But as your offence is 
most odious to a soldier, so it will be sure to meet with the 
soldier’s vengeance: you die to-morrow.” 

“ ’Tis as God wills.” 3° 

“I have spent many a good hour to entrap the villain,” 
said the Skinner, advancing a little from his corner, “ and 
I hope you will give me a certificate that will entitle us to 
the reward; ’twas promised to be paid in gold.” 

“Major Dunwoodie,” said the officer of the day, entering 35 
the room, “the patrols report a house to be burnt near 
yesterday’s battle-ground.” 

“ ’Twas the hut of the pedler,” muttered the leader of the 
gang; “we have not left him a shingle for shelter; I should 
have burnt it months ago, but I wanted his shed for a trap 40 
to catch the sly fox in.” 
o 


194 


THE SPY 


“You seem a most ingenious patriot,” said Lawton. 
“Major Dunwoodie, I second the request of this worthy! 
gentleman, and crave the office of bestowing the reward 
on him and his fellows.” 

5 “Take it; — and you, miserable man, prepare for that 
fate which will surely befall you before the setting of to- 
morrow's sun.” 

“Life offers but little to tempt me with,” said Harvey, 
slowly raising his eyes, and gazing wildly at the strange faces 
10 in the apartment. 

• “Come, worthy children of America!” said Lawton, 
“follow, and receive your reward.” 

The gang eagerly accepted the invitation, and followed 
the captain towards the quarters assigned to his troop. 
15 Dunwoodie paused a moment, from reluctance to triumph 
over a fallen foe, before he proceeded. 

“You have already been tried, Harvey Birch; and the 
truth has proved you to be an enemy too dangerous to the 
liberties of America to be suffered to live.” 

20 “ The truth ! ” echoed the pedler, starting, and raising 

himself in a manner that disregarded the weight of his 
pack. 

“Ay! the truth; you were charged with loitering^ near 
the continental army, to gain intelligence of its movements, 
25 and, by communicating them to the enemy, to enable him 
to frustrate the intentions of Washington.” 

“Will Washington say so, think you?” 

“ Doubtless he would ; even the justice of Washington con- 
demns you.” 

30 “No, no, no,” cried the pedler, in a voice and with a 
manner that startled Dunwoodie; “Washington can see 
beyond the hollow views of pretended patriots. Has he 
not risked his all on the cast of a die ? if a gallows is ready 
for me, was there not one for him also? No, no, no, no — ■ 
35 Washington would never say, ‘Lead him to a gallows.'” 

“Plave you any thing, wretched man, to urge to the com- 
mander-in-chief why you should not die?” said the Major, 
recovering from the surprise created by the manner of the 
other. 

40 Birch trembled, for violent emotions were contending 
in his bosom. His face assumed the ghastly paleness of 


THE SPY 


195 


death, and his hand drew a box of tin from the folds of his 
shirt; he opened it, showing by the act that it contained a 
small piece of paper: on this document his eye was for an 
instant fixed — he had already held it towards Dunwoodie, 
when suddenly withdrawing his hand, he exclaimed — 5 

“No — it dies with me; I know the conditions of my 
service, and will not purchase life with their forfeiture — 
it dies with me.” 

“ Deliver that paper, and you may possibly find favour,” 
cried Dunwoodie, expecting a discovery of importance to lo 
the cause. 

“ It dies with rrie,” repeated Birch, a fiush passing over 
his pallid features, and lighting them with extraordinary 
brilliancy. 

“Seize the traitor !” cried the Major, “and wrest the secret 15 
from his hands.” 

The order was immediately obe5''ed; but the movements 
of the pedler were too quick; m an instant he swallowed /. 
t^ papejc. The officers paused'Th’' astonishment; but the 
surgeon cried eagerly — 20 

“Hold him, while I administer an emetic.” 

“Forbear!” said Dunwoodie, beckoning him back with 
his hand; “if his crime is great, so will his punishment be 
heavy.” 

“Lead on,” cried the pedler, dropping his pack from his 25 
shoulders, and advancing towards the door with a manner 
of incomprehensible dignity. 

“Whither?” asked Dunwoodie, in amazement. 

“To the gallows.” 

“No,” said the Major, recoiling in horror at his own 30 
justice. “ My duty requires that I order you to be executed, 
but surely not so hastily; take until nine to-morrow to 
prepare for the awful change.” 

Dunwoodie whispered his orders in the ear of a subaltern, 
and motioned to the. pedler to withdraw. The interruption 35 
caused by this scene prevented further enjoyment around 
the table, and the officers dispersed to their several places 
of rest. In a short time the only noise to be heard was 
the heavy tread of the sentinel, as he paced the frozen 
ground in front of the Hotel Flanagan. 40 


CHAPTER XVII 


“There are, whose changing lineaments 

Express each guileless passion of the breast; 

Where Love, and Hope, and tender-hearted Pity 
Are seen reflected, as from a mirror’s face; 

But cold experience can veil these hues 
With looks, invented shrewdly to encompass 
The cunning purposes of base deceit. ” 

Duo. 

The officer to whose keeping Dunwoodie had committed 
the pedler transferred his charge to the custody of the 
regular sergeant of the guard. The gift of Captain Wharton 
had not been lost on the youthful lieutenant; and a certain 
5 dancing motion that had taken possession of objects before 
his eyes, gave him warning of the necessity of recruiting 
nature by sleep. After admonishing the non-commissioned 
guardian of Harvey to omit no watchfulness in securing the 
prisoner, the youth wrapped himself in his cloak, and, 
lo stretched on a bench before a fire, soon found the repose he 
needed. A rude shed extended the whole length of the 
rear of the building, and from off one of its ends had been 
partitioned a small apartment, that was intended as a 
repository for many of the lesser implements of husbandry. 
15 The lawless times had, however, occasioned its being stripped 
of every thing of value; and the searching eyes of Betty 
Flanagan selected this spot, on her arrival, as the store- 
house for her moveables, and a sanctuary for her person. 
The spare arms and baggage of the corps had also been 
20 deposited here ; and the united treasures were placed under 
the eye of the sentinel who paraded the shed as a guardian 
of the rear of the head-quarters. A second soldier, who was 
stationed near the house to protect the horses of the officers, 
could command a view of the outside of the apartment; 
25 and, as it was without window or outlet of any kind, ex- 
cepting its door, the considerate sergeant thought this the 

196 


THE SPY 


197 


most befitting place in which to deposit his prisoner until 
the moment of his execution. Several inducements urged 
Sergeant Hollister to this determination, among which was 
^the absence of the washerwoman, who lay before the kitchen 
fire, dreaming that the corps was attacking a party of the s 
enemy, and mistaking the noise that proceeded from her 
own nose for the bugles of the Virginians sounding the 
charge. ^ Another was the peculiar opinions that the veteran 
entertained of life and death, and by which he was distin- 
guished in the corps as a man of most exemplary piety and lo 
holiness of life. The sergeant was more than fifty years of 
age, and for half that period he had borne arms. The con- 
stant recurrence of sudden deaths before his eyes, had pro- 
duced an effect on him differing greatly from that which 
was the usual moral consequence of such scenes; and he 15 
had become not only the most steady, but the most trust- 
worthy soldier in his troop. Captain Lawton had rewarded 
his fidelity by making him its orderly. 

Followed by Birch, the sergeant proceeded in silence to 
the door of the intended prison, and, throwing it open with 20 
one hand, he held a lantern with the other to light the 
pedler to his prison. Seating himself on a cask, that con- 
tained some of Betty's favourite beverage, the sergeant 
motioned to Birch to occupy another, in the same manner. 
The lantern was placed on the floor, when the dragoon, 25 
after looking his prisoner steadily in the face, observed — ■ 

“ You look as if you would meet death like a man; and I 
have brought you to a spot where you can tranquilly ar- 
range your thoughts, and be quiet and undisturbed.” 

‘‘ 'Tis a fearful place to prepare for the last change in,” 30 
said Harvey, gazing around his little prison with a vacant 
eye. 

“Why, for the matter of that,” returned the veteran, “it 
can reckon but little, in the great account, where a man 
parades his thoughts for the last review, so that he finds 35 
them fit to pass the muster of another world. I have a 
small book here, which I make it a point to read a little in, 
whenever we are about to engage, and I find it a great 
strengthener in time of need.” While speaking, he took a 
Bible from his pocket, and offered it to the pedler. Birch 40 
received the volume with habitual reverence; but there 


198 


THE SPY 


was an abstracted air about him, and a wandering of the i 
eye, that induced his companion to think that alarm was ' 
getting the mastery of the pedler’s feelings; accordingly, ! 
he proceeded in what he conceived to be the offices of con-^ 
5 solation. 

If any thing lies heavy on your mind, now is the best 
time to get rid of it — if you have done any wrong to any 
one, I promise you, on the word of an honest dragoon, to 
lend you a helping hand to see them righted/’ 
lo “There are few who have not done so,” said the pedler, 
turning his vacant gaze once more on his companion. 

“True — ’tis natural to sin — but it sometimes happens, 
that a man does what at other times he may be sorry for. 
One would not wish to die with any very heavy sin on his 
15 conscience, after all.” 

Harvey had by this time thoroughly examined the place, 
in which he was to pass the night, and saw no means of 
escape. But as hope is ever the last feeling to desert the 
human breast, the pedler gave the dragoon more of his 
20 attention, fixing on his sunburnt features such searching 
looks, that Sergeant Hollister lowered his eyes before the 
wild expression which he met in the gaze of his prisoner. 

“I have been taught to lay the burden of my sins at the 
feet of my Saviour,” replied the pedler. 

25 “ Why^ yes — all that is well enough,” returned the 

other; “but justice should be done while there is opportu- 
nity. There have been stirring times in this country since 
the war began, and many have been deprived of their 
rightful goods. I oftentimes find it hard to reconcile even 
30 my lawful plunder to a tender conscience.” 

“These hands,” said the pedler, stretching forth his 
meagre, bony fingers, “have spent years in toil, but not a 
moment in pilfering.” 

“ It is well that it is so,” said the honest-hearted soldier; 
35 “and, no doubt, you now feel it a great consolation. There 
are three great sins, that, if a man can keep his conscience 
clear of, why, by the niercy of God, he may hope to pass 
muster with the saints in heaven: they are stealing, mur- 
dering, and desertion.” 

40 “Thank God!” said Birch with fervour, “I have never 
yet taken the life of a fellow-creature.” 


THE SPY 


199 


; “ As to killing a man in lawful battle, that is no more than 

I doing one’s duty. If the cause is wrong, the sin of such a 
deed, you know, falls on the nation, and a man receives his 
punishment here with the rest of the people ; but murdering 
' in cold blood stands next to desertion as a crime in the eye 5 
I of God.” 

I '‘I never was a soldier, therefore never could desert,” 
said the pedler, resting his face on his hand in a melancholy 
attitude. 

‘‘Why, desertion consists of more than quitting your col- 10 
ours, though that is certainly the worst kind; a man may 
desert his country in the hour of need.” 

Birch buried his face in both his hands, and his whole 
I frame shook; the sergeant regarded him closely, but good 
feelings soon got the better of his antipathies, and he con- 15 
tinned more mildly — 

I “But still that is a sin which I think may be forgiven, if 
i sincerely repented of ; and it matters but little when or how 
[ a man dies, so that he dies like a Christian and a man. I 
j recommend you to say your prayers, and then to get some 20 
j rest, in order that you may do both. There is no hope of 
1 your being pardoned ; for Colonel Singleton has sent down 
the most positive orders to take your life whenever we met 
you. No — no — nothing can save you.” 

“ You say the truth,” cried Birch. “ It is now too late — 25 
I have destroyed my only safeguard. But he will do my 
memory justice at least.” 

“What safeguard?” asked the sergeant, with awakened 
curiosity. 

“ ’Tis nothing,” replied the pedler, recovering his natural 3° 
manner, and lowering his face to avoid the earnest looks of 
his companion. 

“ And who is he ?” 

“No one,” added Harvey, anxious to say no more. 

“Nothing, and no one, can avail but little now,” said the 35 
sergeant, rising to go; “ lay yourself on the blanket of Mrs. 
Flanagan, and get a little sleep; I will call you betimes in 
the morning; and, from the bottom of rny soul, I wish I 
could be of some service to you, for I dislike greatly to see 
a man hung up like a dog.” 4° 

“Then you might save me from this ignominious death. 


200 


THE SPY 


said Birch, springing on his feet, and catching the dragoon 
by the arm — “And, oh! what will I not give you in 
reward!” 

“ In what manner ?” asked the sergeant, looking at him in 
5 surprise. 

“See,” said the pedler, producing several guineas from 
his person; “these are nothing to what I will give you, if 
you will assist me to escape.” 

“ Were you the man whose picture is on the gold, I would 
lo not listen to such a crime,” said the trooper, throwing the 
money on the floor with contempt. “Go — go — poor 
wretch, and make your peace with God; for it is he only 
that can be of service to you now.” 

The sergeant took up the lantern, and, with some indig- 
15 nation in his manner, he left the pedler to sorrowful medita- 
tions on his approaching fate. Birch sunk, in momentary j 
despair, on the pallet of Betty, while his guardian pro- 1 
ceeded to give the necessary instructions to the sentinels I 
for his safe-keeping. 

20 Hollister concluded his injunctions to the man in the j 
shed, by saying, “Your life will depend on his not escaping. 
Let none enter or quit the room till morning.” 

“But,” said the trooper, “my orders are, to let the 
washerwoman pass in and out, as she pleases.” 

25 Y Well, let her then; but be careful that this wily pedler 
does not get out in the folds of her petticoats.” He then 
continued his walk, giving similar orders to each of the 
sentinels near the spot. 

For some time after the departure of the sergeant, silence 
33 prevailed within the solitary prison of the pedler, until the 
dragoon at his door heard his loud breathings, which soon 
rose into the regular cadence of one in a deep sleep. The 
man continued walking his post, musing on an indifference 
to life which could allow nature its customary rest, even on 
35 the threshold of the grave. Harvey Birch had, however, 
been a name too long held in detestation by every man in 
the corps, to suffer any feelings of commiseration to mingle 
with these reflections of the sentinel; for, notwithstanding 
the consideration and kindness manifested by the sergeant, 

40 there probably was not another man of his rank in the 
whole party who would have discovered equal benevolence 


THE SPY 


201 


to the prisoner, or who would not have imitated the veteran 
in rejecting the bribe, although probably from a less worthy 
motive. There was something of disappointed vengeance 
in the feelings of the man who watched the door of the 
room on finding his prisoner enjoying a sleep of which he 5 
himself was deprived, and at his exhibiting such obvious 
indifference to the utmost penalty that military rigour could 
inflict on all his treason to the cause of liberty and America. 
More than once he felt prompted to disturb the repose of 
the pedler by taunts and revilings; but the discipline he 10 
was under, and a secret sense of shame at the brutality of 
the act, held him in subjection. 

His meditations were, however, soon interrupted by the 
appearance of the washerwoman, who came staggering 
through the door that communicated with the kitchen, 15 
muttering execrations against the servants of the officers, 
who, by their waggery, had disturbed her slumbers before 
the Are. The sentinel understood enough of her maledic- 
tions to comprehend the case; but all his efforts to enter 
into conversation with the enraged woman were useless, 20 
and he suffered her to enter her room without explaining 
that it contained another inmate. The noise of her huge 
frame falling on the bed was succeeded by a silence that 
was soon interrupted by the renewed respiration of the 
pedler, and within a few minutes Harvey continued to 25 
breathe aloud, as if no interruption had occurred. The 
relief arrived at this moment. The sentinel, who felt 
nettled at the contempt of the pedler, after communicating 
his orders, while he was retiring, exclaimed to his successor — 

‘'You may keep yourself warm by dancing, John; the 30 
pedler spy has tuned his Addle, you hear, and it will not be 
long before Betty will strike up, in her turn.” 

The joke was followed by a general laugh from the party, 
who marched on in the performance of their duty. At this 
instant the door of the prison was opened, and Betty reap- 35 
peared, staggering back again toward her former quarters. 

“Stop,” said the sentinel, catching her by her clothes; 
“are you sure the spy is not in your pocket?” 

“Can’t you hear the rascal snoring in my room, you dirty 
blackguard?” sputtered Betty, her whole frame shaking 40 
with rage; “and is it so yee would sarve a dacent famale. 


202 


THE SPY 


that a man must be put to sleep in the room wid her, yee 
rapscallion 

“ Pooh ! do you mind a fellow who's to be hanged in the 
morning? You see he sleeps already; — to-morrow he'll 
5 take a longer nap." 

‘‘Hands off, yee villain!" cried the washerwoman, re- 
linquishing a small bottle that the trooper had succeeded 
in wresting from her. “But I'll go to Captain Jack, and 
know if it's orders to put a hang-gallows spy in my room; 
loay, even in my widowed bed, you tief!" 

“Silence, old Jezebel!"® said the fellow with a laugh, 
taking the bottle from his mouth to breathe, “ or you will 
wake the gentleman — would you disturb a man in his last 
sleep ?" 

IS “I'll awake Captain Jack, you reprobate villain, and 
bring him here to see me righted : he will punish yee all, for 
imposing on a dacent widowed body, you marauder!" 

With these words, which only extorted a laugh from the 
sentinel, Betty staggered round the end of the building, 
20 and made the best of her way towards the quarters of her 
favourite. Captain John Lawton, in search of redress. 
Neither the officer nor the woman, however, appeared during 
the night, and nothing further occurred to disturb the 
repose of the pedler, who, to the astonishment of the differ- 
25 ent sentinels, continued by his breathing to manifest how 
little the gallows could affect his slumbers. 


CHAPTER XVIII 


A Daniel come to judgment ! yea, a Daniel ! — 

O wise young judge, how I do honour thee ! 

Merchant of Venice. 

The Skinners followed Captain Lawton with alacrity, 
towards the ^quarters occupied by the troop of that gentle- 
man. The captain of dragoons had on all occasions mani- 
fested so much zeal for the cause in which he was engaged, 

I was so regardless of personal danger when opposed to the 5 
I enemy, and his stature and stern countenance contributed 
so much to render him terrific, that these qualities had, in 
some measure, procured him a reputation distinct from the 
I corps in which he served. His intrepidity was mistaken 
I for ferocity; and his hasty zeal, for the natural love of 10 
i cruelty. On the other hand, a few acts of clemency, or, 
t more properly speaking, of discriminating justice, had, 
i with one portion of the community, acquired for Dunwoodie 
j the character of undue forbearance. It is seldom that 
: either popular condemnation or popular applause falls, 15 
' exactly in the quantities earned, where it is merited. 

; While in the presence of the Major, the leader of the 
I gang had felt himself under that restraint which vice must 
ever experience in the company of acknowledged virtue; 
j but having left the house, he at once conceived that he 20 
I was under the protection of a congenial spirit. There was 
i a gravity in the manner of Lawton, that deceived most of 
I those who did not know him intimately; and it was a com- 
j mon saying in his troop, “ that when the captain laughed, 

I he was sure to punish.” Drawing near his conductor, 25 
I therefore, the leader commenced a confidential dialogue — 

“ 'Tis always well for a man to know his friends from his 
enemies,” said the half-licensed freebooter. 

To this prefatory observation the captain made no other 
reply than a sound, which the other interpreted into assent. 30 
“I suppose Major Dunwoodie has the good opinion of 

203 


204 


THE SPY 


Washington?” continued the Skinner, in a tone that rather 
expressed a doubt than asked a question. ; 

“There are some who think so.” ' 

“Many of the friends of Congress in this county,” the i 
5 man proceeded, “wish the horse was led by some other 
officer ; for my part, if I could only be covered by a troop 
now and then, I could do many an important piece of ser- 
vice to the cause, to which this capture of the pedler would 
be a trifle.” 

lo “Indeed! such as what?” 

“For the matter of that, it could be made as profitable 
to the officer as it would be to us who did it,” said the 
Skinner, with a look of the most significant meaning. 

“But how?” asked Lawton, a little impatiently, and 
15 quickening his step to get out of the hearing of the rest of 
the party. 

“Why, near the royal lines, even under the very guns of 
the heights, might be good picking if we had a force to guard 
us from De Lancey’s® men, and to cover our retreat from 
20 being cut off by the way of King’s-bridge.” 

“I thought the Refugees took all that game to them- 
selves.” 

“They do a little at it; but they are obliged to be sparing 
among their own people. I have been down twice, under 
25 an agreement with them; the first time they acted with 
honour; but the second they came upon us and drove us 
off, and took the plunder to themselves.” 

“That was a very dishonourable act, indeed; I wonder 
that an honourable man will associate with such rascals.” 

30 “It is necessary to have an understanding with some of 
them, or we might be taken ; but a man without honour is 
worse than a brute. Do you think Major Dunwoodie is 
to be trusted?” 

“You mean on honourable principles?” 

35 “Certainly; you know Arnold was thought well of until 
the royal major was taken.” 

“Why, I do not believe Dunwoodie would sell his com- 
mand as Arnold wished to do; neither do I think him 
exactly trustworthy in a delicate business like this of yours.” 
40 “That’s just my notion,” rejoined the Skinner, with a 
self-approving manner that showed how much he was 
satisfied with his own estimate of character. 


THE SPY 


205 


: By this time they had arrived at a better sort of farm- 

i house, the very extensive out-buildings of which were in 
tolerable repair, for the times. The barns were occupied 
by the men of the troop, while the horses were arranged 
under the long sheds which protected the yard from the 5 
cold north wind. The latter were quietly eating, with 
saddles on their backs and bridles thrown on their necks, 
ready to be bitted and mounted at the shortest warning. 
Lawton excused himself for a moment, and entered his 
quarters. He soon returned, holding in his hand one of the 10 
common stable-lanterns, and led the way towards a large 
orchard that surrounded the buildings on three sides. The 
gang followed the trooper in silence, believing his object 
to be facility of communicating further on this interesting 
topic, without the danger of being overheard. 15 

Approaching the Captain, the Skinner renewed the dis- 
course, with a view of establishing further confidence, and 
of giving his companion a more favourable opinion of his 
own intellects. 

“Do you think the colonies will finally get the better of 20 
the king?^’ he enquired, with a little of the importance of 
a politician. 

“Get the better!’’ echoed the Captain with impetuosity 
— then checking himself, he continued, “ no doubt they 
will. If the French will give us arms and money, we can 25 
drive out the royal troops in six months.” 

“Well, so I hope we shall soon; and then we shall have 
a free government, and we, who fight for it, will get our 
reward.” 

“Oh !” cried Lawton, “your claims will be indisputable; 3° 
while all these vile Tories who live at home peaceably, to 
take care of their farms, will be held in the contempt they 
merit. You have no farm, I suppose?” 

“Not yet — but it will go hard if I do not find one before 
the peace is made.” 35 

“Right; study your own interests, and you study the 
interests of your country; press the point of your own 
services, and rail at the Tories, and I’ll bet my spurs against 
a rusty nail that you get to be a county clerk at least.” 

“Don’t you think Paulding’s® party were fools in not 40 
letting the royal adjutant-general escape?” said the man, 


206 


THE SPY 


thrown off his guard by the freedom of the Captain’s i 
manner. j 

‘‘Fools!” cried Lawton, with a bitter laugh; “ay, fools j 
indeed; King George would have paid them better, for he 
5 is richer. He would have made them gentlemen for their 
lives. But, thank God ! there is a pervading spirit in the 
people that seems miraculous. Men who have nothing, 
act as if the wealth of the Indies depended on their fidelity; ; 
all are not villains like yourself, or we should have been : 
.10 slaves to England years ago.” 

“How!” exclaimed the Skinner, starting back, and 
dropping his musket to the level of the other’s breast; “am 
I betrayed, and are you my enemy?” 

“Miscreant!” shouted Lawton, his sabre ringing in its 
15 steel scabbard, as he struck the musket of the fellow from 
his hands, “offer but again to point 3mur gun at me, and j 
I’ll cleave you to the middle.” I 

“And you will not pay us, then, Captain Lawton?” said 
the Skinner, trembling in every joint, for just then he saw 
20 a party of mounted dragoons silently encircling the whole 
party. 

“Oh! pay you — yes, you shall have the full measure 
of your reward. There is the money that Colonel Singleton 
sent down for the captors of the spy,” throwing a bag of 
25 guineas with disdain at the other’s feet. “But ground 
your arms, you rascals, and see that the money is truly 
told.” 

The intimidated band did as they were ordered; and 
while they were eagerly employed in this pleasing avoca- 
30 tion, a few of Lawton’s men privately knocked the flints 
out of their muskets. 

“Well,” cried the impatient captain, “is it right? — have 
you the promised reward?” 

“There is just the money,” said the leader; “and we will 
35 now go to our homes, with your permission.” 

“Hold ! so much to redeem our promise — now for jus- 
tice; we pay you for taking a spy, but we punish you for 
burning, robbing, and murdering. Seize them, my lads, 
and give each of them the law of Moses — forty, save one.”° 

40 This command was given to no unwilling listeners; and 
in the twinkling of an eye the Skinners were stripped and 


THE SPY 


207 


fastened, by the halters of the party, to as many of the 
apple-trees as were necessary to furnish one to each of the 
gang. Swords were quickly drawn, and fifty branches 
were cut from the trees, like magic: from these were 
selected a few of the most supple of the twigs, and a willing 5 
dragoon was soon found to wield each of the weapons. 
Captain Lawton gave the word, humanely cautioning his 
men not to exceed the discipline prescribed by the Mosaic 
law, and the uproar of Babel commenced in the orchard. 
The cries of the leader were easily to be distinguished above 10 
those of his men ; a circumstance which might be accounted 
for, by Captain Lawton’s reminding his corrector that he 
had to deal with an officer, and he should remember and 
pay him unusual honour. The flagellation was executed 
with great neatness and despatch, and it was distinguished 15 
by no irregularity, excepting that none of the disciplinarians 
began to count until they had tried their whips by a dozen 
or more blows, by the way, as they said themselves, of find- 
ing out the proper places to strike. As soon as this sum- 
mary operation was satisfactorily completed, Lawton di- 20 
rected his men to leave the Skinners to replace their own 
clothes, and to mount their horses; for they were a party 
who had been detached for the purpose of patrolling lower 
down in the county. 

“You see, my friend,” said the Captain to the leader of 25 
the Skinners, after he had prepared himself to depart, “I 
can cover you to some purpose, when necessary. If we 
meet often, you will be covered with scars, which, if not 
very honourable, will at least be merited.” 

The fellow made no reply. He was busy with his musket, 30 
and hastening his comrades to march; when, every thing 
being ready, they proceeded sullenly towards some rocks 
at no great distance, which were overhung b}'' a deep wood. 
The moon was just rising, and the group of dragoons could 
easily be distinguished where they had been left. Suddenly 35 
turning, the whole gang levelled their pieces and drew the 
triggers. The action was noticed, and the snapping of the 
locks was heard by the soldiers, who returned their futile 
attempt with a laugh of derision, the captain crying aloud — 

“Ah! rascals, I knew you, and have taken away your 40 
flints.” 


208 


THE SPY 


“You should have taken away that in my pouch too/’ 
shouted the leader, firing his gun in the next instant. The 
bullet grazed the ear of Lawton, who laughed as he shook 
his head, saying, “A miss was as good as a mile.” One of 
5 the dragoons had seen the preparations of the Skinner — 
who had been left alone by the rest of his gang, as soon as 
they had made their abortive attempt at revenge — and 
was in the act of plunging his spurs into his horse as the 
fellow fired. The distance to the rocks was but small, yet 
lo the speed of the horse compelled the leader to abandon both 
money and musket, to effect his escape. The soldier re- 
turned with his prizes, and offered them to the acceptance 
of his captain; but Lawton rejected them, telling the man 
to retain them himself, until the rascal appeared in person 
15 to claim his property. It would have been a business of 
no small difficulty for any tribunal then existing in the 
new states to have enforced a restitution of the money; for 
it was shortly after most equitably distributed, by the 
hands of Sergeant Hollister, among a troop of horse. The 
20 patrol departed, and the Captain slowly returned to his 
quarters, with an intention of retiring to rest. A figure 
moving rapidly among the trees, in the direction of the 
v/ood whither the Skinners had retired, caught his eye, and, 
wheeling on his heel, the cautious partisan approached it, 
25 and, to his astonishment, saw the washerwoman at that 
hour of the night, and in such a place. 

“What, Betty ! walking in your sleep, or dreaming while 
awake?” cried the trooper; “are you not afraid of meeting 
with the ghost of ancient Jenny in this her favourite pas- 
30 ture?” 

“ Ah, sure. Captain Jack,” returned the sutler in her 
native accent, and reeling in a manner that made it difficult 
for her to raise her head, “it’s not Jenny, or her ghost, that 
I’m saaking, but some yarbs for the wounded. i)^d it’s 
35 the vartue of the rising moon, as it jist touches them, that 
I want. They grow under yon rocks, and I must hasten, 
or the charm will lose its power.” 

“Fool, you are fitter for your pallet than for wandering 
among those rocks: a fall from one of them would break 
40 your bones ; besides, the Skinners have fled to those heights, 
and should you fall in with them, they would revenge on 


THE SPY 


209 


you a sound flogging they have just received from me. 
Better return, old woman, and finish your nap; we march 
in the morning.” 

Betty disregarded his advice, and continued her devious 
route to the hill-side. For an instant, as Lawton men- 5 
tioned the Skinners, she had paused, but immediately re- 
suming her course, she was soon out of sight, among the 
trees. 

As the Captain entered his quarters, the sentinel at the 
door enquired if he had met Mrs. Flanagan, and added that 10 
she had passed there, filling the air with threats against 
her tormentors at the ‘‘Hotel,” and enquiring for the Cap- 
tain in search of redress. Lawton heard the man in as- 
tonishment — appeared struck with a new idea — walked 
several yards towards the orchard, and returned again; for 15 
several minutes he paced rapidly to and fro before the door 
of the house, and then hastily entering it, he threw himself 
on a bed in his clothes, and was soon in a profound sleep. 

In the mean time, the gang of marauders had success- 
fully gained the summit of the rocks, and, scattering in 20 
every direction, they buried themselves in the depths of 
the wood. Finding, however, there was no pursuit, which 
indeed would have been impracticable for horse, the leader 
ventured to call his band together with a whistle, and in a 
short time he succeeded in collecting his discomfited party, 25 
at a point where they had but little to apprehend from 
any enemy. 

“Well,” said one of the fellows, while a fire was lighting 
to protect them against the air, which was becoming 
severely cold, “there is an end to our business in West- 3° 
Chester. The Virginia horse will soon make the county 
too hot to hold us.” 

“I’ll have his blood,” muttered the leader, “if I die for 
it the next instant.” 

“Oh, you are very valiant here, in the wood,” cried the 35 
other, with a savage laugh; “why did you, who boast so 
much of your aim, miss your man, at thirty yards?” 

“ ’Twas the horseman that disturbed me, or I would 
have ended this Captain Lawton on the spot; besides, the 
cold had set me a shivering, and I had no longer a steady 4° 
hand.” 


p 


210 


THE SPY 


“Say it was fear, and you will tell no lie,” said his com- 
rade with a sneer. “For my part, I think I shall never be 
cold again; my back burns as if a thousand gridirons were 
laid on it.” 

5 “And you would tamely submit to such usage, and kiss 
the rod that beat you ? ” 

“As for kissing the rod, it would be no easy matter. 
Mine was broken into so small pieces, on my own shoulders, 
that it would be difficult to find one big enough to kiss; 
lo but I would rather submit to lose half my skin, than to 
lose the whole of it, with my ears in the bargain. And such 
will be our fates, if we tempt this mad Virginian again. 
God willing, I would at any time give him enough of my 
hide to make a pair of jack-boots, to get out of his hands 
15 with the remainder. If you had known when you were well 
off, you would have stuck to Major Dunwoodie, who don’t 
know half so much of our evil-doings.” 

“Silence, you talking fool !” shouted the enraged leader; 
“your prating is sufficient to drive a man mad; is it not 
20 enough to be robbed and beaten, but we must be tormented 
with your folly? — help to get out the provisions, if any is 
left in the wallet, and try and stop your mouth with food.” 

This injunction was obeyed, and the whole party, amidst 
sundry groans and contortions, excited by the disordered | 
25 state of their backs, made their arrangements for a scanty 
meal. A large fire of dry wood was burning in the cleft of a 
rock, and at length they began to recover from the confu- 
sion of their flight, and to collect their scattered senses. 
Their hunger being appeased, and many of their garments 
30 thrown aside for the better opportunity of dressing their 
wounds, the gang began to plot measures of revenge. An 
hour was spent in this manner, and various expedients 
were proposed; but as they all depended on personal 
prowess for their success, and were attended by great 
35 danger, they were of course rejected. There was no pos- 
sibility of approaching the troops by surprise, their vigi- 
lance being ever on the watch; and the hope of meeting 
Captain Lawton, away from his men, was equally forlorn, 
for the trooper was constantly engaged in his duty, and 
40 his movements were so rapid, that any opportunity of 
meeting with him, at all, must depend greatly on accident. 


THE SPY 


211 


Besides, it was by no means certain, that such an interview 
would result happily for themselves. The cunning of the 
trooper was notorious; and rough and broken as was 
West-Chester, the fearless partisan was known to take 
desperate leaps, and stone walls were but slight impedi- 
ments to the charges of the Southern horse. Gradually, 
the conversation took another direction, until the gang 
determined on a plan which should both revenge them- 
selves, and at the same time offer some additional stimulus 
to their exertions. The whole business was accurately 
discussed, the time fixed, and the manner adopted; in 
short, nothing was wanting to the previous arrangement 
for this deed of villany, when they were aroused by a voice 
calling aloud — 

‘^This way. Captain Jack — here are the rascals ating 
by a fire — this way, and murder the tieves where they 
sit — quick, lave your horses and shoot your pistols 

This terrific summons was enough to disturb all the phi- 
losophy of the gang. Springing on their feet, they rushed 
deeper into the wood, and having already agreed upon a 
place of rendezvous previously to their intended expedi- 
tion, they dispersed towards the four quarters of the heav- 
ens. Certain sounds and different voices were heard call- 
ing on each other, but as the marauders were well trained 
to speed of foot, they were soon lost in the distance. 

It was not long before Betty Flanagan emerged from 
the darkness, and very coolly took possession of what the 
Skinners had left behind them; namely, food, and divers 
articles of dress. The washerwoman deliberately seated 
herself, and made a meal with great apparent satisfaction. 
For an hour, she sat with her head upon her hand, in deep 
musing; then she gathered together such articles of the 
clothes, as seemed to suit her fancy, and retired into the 
wood, leaving the fire to throw its glimmering light on the 
adjacent rocks, until its last brand died away, and the place 
was abandoned to solitude and darkness. 


5 

10 

15 

20 

25 

30 

35 


CHAPTER XIX 


No longer then perplex the breast — 

When thoughts torment, the first are best ; 

^Tis mad to go, 'tis death to stay ! 

Away, to Orra, haste away. 

Lapland Love Song. 

While his comrades were sleeping, in perfect forgetful- 
ness of their hardships and dangers, the slumbers of Dun- 
woodie were broken and unquiet. After spending a night 
of restlessness, he arose, unrefreshed, from the rude bed 
5 where he had thrown himself in his clothes, and, without 
awaking any of the group around him, he wandered into 
the open air in search of relief. The soft rays of the moon 
were just passing away in the more distinct light of the 
morning; the wind had fallen, and the rising mists gave the 
lo promise of another of those autumnal days, which, in this 
unstable climate, succeed a tempest with the rapid transi- 
tions of magic. The hour had not yet arrived when he 
intended moving from his present position; and, willing 
to allow his warriors all the refreshment that circumstances I 
^5 would permit, he strolled towards the scene of the Skinners’ j 
punishment, musing upon the embarrassments of his situa- 
tion, and uncertain how he should reconcile his sense of i 
duty with his love. Although Dunwoodie himself placed 
the most implicit reliance on the Captain’s purity of in- 
20 tention, he was by no means assured that a board of officers 
would be equally credulous; and, independently of all 
feelings of private regard, he felt certain that with the 
execution of Henry would be destroyed all hopes of a 
union with his sister. He had despatched an officer, the 
25 preceding evening, to Colonel Singleton, who was in com- 
mand of the advance posts, reporting the capture of the 
British captain, and, after giving his own opinion of his ’ 
innocence, requesting orders as to the manner in which he 
was to dispose of his prisoner. These orders might be ^ 


THE SPY 


213 


expected, every hour, and his uneasiness increased, in 
proportion as the moment approached when his friend 
might be removed from his protection. In this disturbed 
state of mind, the Major wandered through the orchard, 
and was stopped in his walk by arriving at the base of s 
those rocks which had protected the Skinners in their 
flight before he was conscious whither his steps had carried 
him. He was about to turn, and retrace his path to his 
quarters, when he was startled by a voice, bidding him — 
‘‘Stand or die!’’ lo 

Dunwoodie turned in amazement, and beheld the figure 
of a man placed at a little distance above him on a shelving 
rock, with a musket levelled at himself. The light was not 
yet sufficiently powerful to reach the recesses of that 
gloomy spot, and a second look was necessary before he 15 
discovered, to his astonishment, that the pedler stood 
before him. Comprehending, in an instant, the danger 
of his situation, and disdaining to implore mercy or to 
retreat, had the latter been possible, the youth cried 
firmly — 20 

“If I am to be murdered, fire 1 I will never become your 
prisoner.” 

“No, Major Dunwoodie,” said Birch, lowering his mus- 
ket, “it is neither my intention to capture nor to slay.” 

“What then would you have, mysterious being?” said 25 
Dunwoodie, hardly able to persuade himself that the form 
he saw was not a creature of the imagination. 

“Your good opinion,” answered the pedler, with emo- 
tion; “I would wish all good men to judge me with lenity.” 

“To you it must be indifferent what may be the judg- 3° 
ment of men ; for you seem to be beyond the reach of their 
sentence.” 

“God spares the lives of his servants to his own time,” 
said the pedler, solemnly: “a few hours ago I was your 
prisoner, and threatened with the gallows; now you areas 
mine; but. Major Dunwoodie, you are free. There are men 
abroad who would treat you less kindly. Of what service 
would that sword be to you against my weapon and a 
steady hand? Take the advice of one who has never 
harmed you, and who never will. Do not trust yourself in 40 
the skirts of any wood, unless in company and mounted.” 


214 


THE SPY 


‘‘And have you comrades, who have assisted you to 
escape, and who are less generous than yourself?” 

‘<No — no, I am alone truly — none know me but my 
God and 

5 “And who?” asked the Major, with an interest he could 
not control. 

“None,” continued the pedler, recovering his composure. 
“But such is not your case. Major Dunwoodie; you are 
young and happy ; there are those that are dear to you, and 
losuch are not far away — danger is near them you love 
most — danger within and without; double your watchful- 
ness — strengthen your patrols — and be silent. With 
your opinion of me, should I tell you more, you would 
suspect an ambush. But remember and guard them you 
15 love best.” 

The pedler discharged the musket in the air, and threw 
it at the feet of his astonished auditor. When surprise and 
the smoke allowed Dunwoodie to look again on the rock 
where he had stood, the spot was vacant. 

20 The youth was aroused from the stupor, which had been 
created by this strange scene, by the trampling of horses, 
and the sound of the bugles. A patrol was drawn to the 
spot by the report of the musket, and the alarm had been 
given to the corps. Without entering into any explana- 
25 tion with his men, the Major returned quickly to his quar- 
ters, where he found the whole squadron under arms, in 
battle array, impatiently awaiting the appearance of 
their leader. The officer whose duty it was to superintend 
such matters, had directed a party to lower the sign of the 
30 Hotel Flanagan, and the post was already arranged for the 
execution of the spy. On hearing from the Major that the 
musket was discharged by himself, and was probably one 
of those dropped by the Skinners, (for by this time Dun- 
woodie had learnt the punishment inflicted by Lawton, 
35 but chose to conceal his own interview with Birch,) his 
officers suggested the propriety of executing their prisoner 
before they marched. Unable to believe that all he had 
seen was not a dream, Dunwoodie, followed by many of 
his officers, and preceded by Sergeant Hollister, went to the 
40 place which was supposed to contain the pedler. 

“Well, sir,” said the Major to the sentinel who guarded 
the door, “I trust you have your prisoner in safety.” 


THE SPY 


215 


“He is yet asleep/’ replied the man, “and he makes such 
a noise, I could hardly hear the bugles 'sound the alarm.” 

“Open the door, and bring him forth.” 

The order was obeyed; but, to the utter amazement of 
the honest veteran who entered the prison, he found the 5 
room in no little disorder — the coat of the pedler where 
his body ought to have been, and part of the wardrobe of 
Betty scattered in disorder on the floor. The washer- 
woman herself occupied the pallet, in profound mental 
oblivion, clad as when last seen, excepting a little black 10 
bonnet, which she so constantly wore, that it was commonly 
thought she made it perform the double duty of both day 
and night cap. The noise of their entrance, and the ex- 
clamations of the party, awoke the woman. 

“Is it the breakfast that’s wanting?” said Betty, rub- 15 
bing her eyes; “faith, yee look as if yee would ate myself 
— but patience a little, darlings, and ye’ll see sich a fry as 
never was.” 

“Fry!” echoed the Sergeant, forgetful of his religious 
philosophy, and the presence of his officers; “we’ll have 20 
you roasted, Jezebel ! — you’ve helped that damn’d pedler 
to escape.’’ 

“Jezebel back agin in your teeth, and damn’d pidler too, 
^Mister Sargeant!” cried Betty, who was easily roused; 
“what have I to do with pidlers, or escapes? I might 25 
have been a pidler’s lady, and worn my silks, if I’d had 
Sawny M’Twill, instead of tagging at the heels of a parcel 
of dragooning rapscallions, who don’t know how to trate 
a lone body with dacency.” 

“The fellow has left my Bible,” said the veteran, taking 30 
the book from the floor; “instead of spending his time in 
reading it to prepare for his end, like a good Christian, he 
has been busy in labouring to escape.” 

“ And who would stay and be hanged like a dog?” cried 
Betty, beginning to comprehend the case; “’tisn’t every 35 
one that’s born to meet with sich an ind — like yourself, 
Mister Hollister.” 

“Silence!” said Dunwoodie. “This must be enquired 
into closely, gentlemen; there is no outlet but the door, 
and there he could not pass, unless the sentinel connived 40 
at his escape, or was asleep on his post : — call up the 
guard.” 


216 


THE SPY 


As these men were not paraded, curiosity had already 
drawn them to the place, and they one and all, with the 
exception of him before mentioned, denied that any per- 
son had passed out. The individual in question acknowl- 
5 edged that Betty had gone by him, but pleaded his orders 
in justification. 

“You lie, you tief — you lie!’' shouted Betty, who had 
impatiently listened to his exculpation; “would yee slan- 
derise a lone woman, by saying she walks a camp at mid- 
lo night ? — Here have I been slaaping the long night, swaatly 
as the sucking babe.” 

“Here, sir,” said the Sergeant, turning respectfully to 
Dunwoodie, “ is something written in my Bible that was 
not in it before; for having no family to record, I would 
1 5 never suffer any scribbling in the sacred book.” 

One of the officers read aloud — “ These certify, that if \ 
suffered to get free, it is by God’s help alone, to whose divine I 
aid I humbly riccommind myself. I’m forced to take the \ 
woman’s clothes, but in her pocket is a ricompinse. — Wit- 
20 ness my hand — Harvey Birch.” 

“What!” roared Betty, “has the tief robbed a lone 
woman of her all ? — hang him — catch him and hang 
him. Major; if there’s law or justice in the land.” 

“ Examine your pocket,” said one of the youngsters, 

25 who was enjoying the scene, careless of the consequences. 

“ Ah ! faith,” cried the washerwoman, producing a guinea, 

“ but he is a jewel of a pidler ! Long life and a brisk trade 
to him, say I ; he is wilcome to the duds — and if he is 
ever hanged, many a bigger rogue will go free.” 

30 Dunwoodie turned to leave the apartment, and he saw 
Captain Lawton standing with folded arms, contemplating 
the scene in profound silence. His manner, so different 
from his usual impetuosity and zeal, struck his commander 
as singular. Their eyes met, and they walked together for 
35 a few minutes in close conversation, when Dunwoodie re- 
turned, and dismissed the guard to their place of rendez- 
vous. Sergeant Hollister, however, continued along with 
Betty, who, having found none of her vestments disturbed 
but such as the guinea more than paid for, was in high 
40 good-humour. The washerwoman had for a long time 
looked on the veteran with the eyes of affection; and she 


THE SPY 


217 


had determined within herself to remove certain delicate 
objections which had long embarrassed her peculiar situa- 
tion, as respected the corps, by making the Sergeant the 
successor of her late husband. For some time past the 
trooper had seemed to flatter this preference; and Betty, 5 
conceiving that her violence might have mortified her 
suitor, was determined to make him all the amends in her 
power. Besides, rough and uncouth as she was, the washer- 
woman had still enough of the sex to know that the mo- 
ments of reconciliation were the moments of power. She 10 
therefore poured out a glass of her morning beverage, and 
handed it to her companion as a peace-offering. 

“ A few warm words between frinds are a trifle, yee must 
be knowing, Sargeant,’’ said the washerwoman; “it was 
Michael Flanagan that I ever calumnated the most when 1 5 
I was loving him the best.” 

“ Michael was a good soldier and a brave man,” said the 
trooper, finishing the glass ; “ our troop was covering the 
flank of his regiment when he fell, and I rode over his 
body myself during the day ; poor fellow ! he lay on his 20 
back, and looked as composed as if he had died a natural 
death after a year’s consumption.” 

“Oh! Michael was a great consumer, and be sartain; 
two such as us make dreadful inroads in the stock, Sargeant. 
But yee’r a sober discrate man. Mister Hollister, and would 25 
be a helpmate indeed.” 

“Why, Mrs. Flanagan, I’ve tarried to speak on a sub- 
ject that lies heavy at my heart, and I will now open my 
mind, if you’ve leisure to listen.” 

“Is it listen?” cried the impatient woman; “and I’d 3 ° 
listen to you, Sargeant, if the officers never ate another 
mouthful: but take a second drop, dear, ’twill encourage 
you to spake freely.” 

“ I am already bold enough in so good a cause,” returned 
the veteran, rejecting her bounty. “ Betty, do you think 35 
it was really the Pedler-Spy that I placed in this room, the 
last night?” 

“And who should it be else, darling?” 

“The evil one.” 

“What, the divil?” 40 

“ Ay, even Beelzebub,® disguised as the pedler; and them 
fellows we thought to be Skinners were his imps 1 ” 


218 


THE SPY 


Well sure, Sargeant dear, yee’r but little out this time, 
any way; for if the divihs imps go at large in the county 
West-Chester, sure it is the Skinners, themselves.’^ 

“Mrs. Flanagan, I mean in their incarnate spirits; the 
5 evil one knew that there was no one we would arrest sooner 
than the pedler Birch, and he took on his appearance to 
gain admission to your room.” 

“And what should the divil be wanting of me?” cried 
Betty, tartly; “and isn’t there divils enough in the corps 
lo already, without one’s coming from the bottomless pit to 
frighten a lone body?” 

“ ’Twas in mercy to you, Betty, that he was permitted 
to come. You see he vanished through the door in your 
form, which is a symbol of your fate, unless you mend 
15 your life. Oh! I noticed how he trembled when I gave 
him the good book. Would any Christian, think you, my 
dear Betty, write in a Bible in this way; unless it might 
be the matter of births and deaths, and such lawful chroni- 
cles?” 

20 The washerwoman was pleased with the softness of her 
lover’s manner, but dreadfully scandalised at his insinua- 
tion. She, however, preserved her temper, and with the 
quickness of her own country’s people, rejoined — • 

“ And would the divil have paid for the clothes, think 
25 ye? — ay, and overpaid.” 

“ Doubtless the money is base,” said the Sergeant, a 
little staggered at such an evidence of honesty in one of 
whom, as to generals, he thought so meanly. “ He tempted 
me with his glittering coin, but the Lord gave me strength 
30 to resist.” 

“ The goold looks well ; but I’ll change it, any way, with 
Captain Jack, the day. He is niver a bit afeard of any divil 
of them all!” 

“ Betty, Betty,” said her companion, “ do not speak so 
35 disreverently of the evil spirit; he is ever at hand, and will 
owe you a grudge, for your language.” 

“ Pooh ! if he has any bowels at all, he won’t mind a 
fillip or two from a poor lone woman; I’m sure no other 
Christian would.” 

40 “ But the dark one has no bowels, except to devour the 

children of men,” said the Sergeant, looking around him 


THE SPY 


219 


in horror; “and it's best to make friends everywhere, for 
there is no telling what may happen till it comes. But, 
Betty, no man could have got out of this place, and passed 
all the sentinels without being known; take awful warn- 
ing from the visit, therefore — ” 5 

Here the dialogue was interrupted by a peremptory 
summons to the sutler to prepare the morning's repast, 
and^ they were obliged to separate; the woman secretly 
hoping that the interest the Sergeant manifested was more 
earthly than he imagined, and the man, bent on saving a lo 
soul from the fangs of the dark spirit that was prowling 
through their camp in quest of victims. 

During the breakfast several expresses arrived, one of 
which brought intelligence of the actual force and destina- 
tion of the enemy's expedition that was out on the Hud- 15 
son; and another, orders to send Captain Wharton to the 
first post above, under the escort of a body of dragoons. 
These last instructions, or rather commands, for they ad- 
mitted of no departure from their letter, completed the 
sum of Dunwoodie's uneasiness. The despair and misery 20 
of Frances were constantly before his eyes, and fifty times 
he was tempted to throw himself on his horse and gallop 
to the Locusts; but an uncontrollable feeling prevented. 

In obedience to the commands of his superior, an officer, 
with a small party, was sent to the cottage to conduct 25 
Henry Wharton to the place directed; and the gentleman 
who was intrusted with the execution of the order was 
charged with a letter from Dunwoodie to his friend, con- 
taining the most cheering assurances of his safety, as well 
as the strongest pledges of his own unceasing exertions in 30 
his favour. Lawton was left with part of his own troop, 
in charge of the few wounded; and as soon as the men 
were refreshed, the encampment broke up, the main body 
marching towards the Hudson. Dunwoodie repeated his 
injunctions to Captain Lawton again and again — dwelt 35 
on every word that had fallen from the pedler, and can- 
vassed, in every possible manner that his ingenuity could 
devise, the probable meaning of his mysterious warnings, 
until no excuse remained for delaying his own departure. 
Suddenly recollecting, however, that no directions had been 40 
given for the disposal of Colonel Wellmere, instead of fol- 


220 


THE SPY 


lowing the rear of the column, the Major yielded to his 
desires, and turned down the road which led to the Locusts. 
The horse of Dunwoodie was fleet as the wind, and scarcely 
a minute seemed to have passed before he gained sight, 
5 from an eminence, of the lonely vale, and as he was plung- 
ing into the bottom lands that formed its surface, he caught 
a glimpse of Henry Wharton and his escort, at a distance, 
defiling through a pass which led to the posts above. This 
sight added to the speed of the anxious youth, who now 
lo turned the angle of the hill that opened to the valley, and 
came suddenly on the object of his search. Frances had 
followed the party which guarded her brother at a dis- 
tance; and as they vanished from her sight, she felt de- 
serted by all that she most prized in this world. The un- 
15 accountable absence of Dunwoodie, with the shock of 
parting from Henry under such circumstances, had entirely 
subdued her fortitude, and she had sunk on a stone by the 
roadside, sobbing as if her heart would break. Dunwoodie 
sprang from his charger, threw the reins over the neck of 
20 the animal, and in a moment he was by the side of the 
weeping girl. 

“Frances — my own Frances!” he exclaimed, “why 
this distress ? — ■ let not the situation of your brother create 
any alarm. As soon as the duty I am now on is completed, 
25 I will hasten to the feet of Washington, and beg his re- 
lease. The Father of his Country will never deny such a 
boon to one of his favourite pupils.” 

“ Major Dunwoodie, for your interest in behalf of my 
poor brother, I thank you,” said the trembling girl, drying 
30 her eyes, and rising with dignity ; “ but such language ad- 
dressed to me, surely, is improper.” 

“ Improper 1 are you not mine — by the consent of your 
father — your aunt — your brother — nay, by your own 
consent, my sweet Frances?” 

35 “ I wish not. Major Dunwoodie, to interfere with the 

prior claims that any other lady may have to your affec- 
tions,” said Frances, struggling to speak with firmness. 

“None other, I swear by Heaven, none other has any 
claim on me!” cried Dunwoodie, with fervour; “you alone 
40 are mistress of my inmost soul.” 

“You have practised so much, and so successfully. Major 


THE SPY 


221 


Dunwoodie, that it is no wonder you excel in deceiving 
the credulity of my sex,” returned Frances, attempting a 
smile, which the tremulousness of her muscles smothered 
in its birth. 

Am I a villain. Miss Wharton, that you receive me 5 
with such language ? — when have I ever deceived you, 
Frances? who has practised in this manner on your purity 
of heart?” 

“ Why has not Major Dunwoodie honoured the dwelling 
of his intended father with his presence lately ? Did he 10 
forget it contained one friend on a bed of sickness, and an- 
other in deep distress ? Has it escaped his memory that it 
held his intended wife? Or is he fearful of meeting more 
than one that can lay a claim to that title? Oh, Peyton 

— Peyton, how have I been deceived in you! with the 15 
foolish credulity of my youth, I thought you all that was 
brave, noble, generous, and loyal.” 

“ Frances, I see how you have deceived yourself,” cried 
Dunwoodie, his face in a glow of fire; you do me injustice; 

I swear by all that is most dear to me, that you do me in- 20 
justice.” 

“ Swear not. Major Dunwoodie,” interrupted Frances, 
her fine countenance lighting with the lustre of womanly 
pride; “ the time is gone by for me to credit oaths.” 

‘‘ Miss Wharton, would you have me a coxcomb — make 25 
me contemptible in my own eyes, by boasting with the 
hope of raising myself in your estimation?” 

“ Flatter not yourself that the task is so easy, sir,” re- 
turned Frances, moving towards the cottage; “we con- 
verse together in private for the last time; — but — possibly 3 ° 

— my father would welcome my mother’s kinsman.” 

“No, Miss Wharton, I cannot enter his dwelling now: I 

should act in a manner unworthy of myself. You drive 
me from you, Frances, in despair. I am going on desperate 
service, and may not live to return. Should fortune prove 35 
severe, at least do my memory justice; remember that the 
last breathings of my soul will be for your happiness.” 

So saying, he had already placed his foot in the stirrup, 
but his youthful mistress turning on him an eye that pierced 
his soul, arrested the action, 4° 

“Peyton — Major Dunwoodie,” she said, “can you ever 


222 


THE SPY 


forget the sacred cause in which you are enlisted? Dutyr 
both to your God and to your country forbids you doing 
any thing rashly. The latter has need of your services; 
besides — ” but her voice became choked, and she was 
5 unable to proceed. 

- ‘‘Besides what?” echoed the youth, springing to her 
side, and offering to take her hand in his own. Frances 
having, however, recovered herself, coldly repulsed him 
and continued her walk homeward, 
lo “ Is this our parting ! ” cried Dunwoodie, in agony; “am 
I a wretch, that you treat me so cruelly? You have never 
loved me, and wish to conceal your own fickleness by accu- 
sations that you will not explain.” 

Frances stopped short in her walk, and turned on him a 
IS look of so much purity and feeling, that, heart-stricken, 
Dunwoodie would have knelt at her feet for pardon; but 
motioning him for silence, she once more spoke — 

“Hear me. Major Dunwoodie, for the last time; it is a 
bitter knowledge when we first discover our own inferiority; 
20 but it is a truth that I have lately learnt. Against you I 
bring no charges — make no accusations ; no, not willingly 
in my thoughts. Were my claims to your heart just, I am 
not worthy of you. It is not a feeble, timid girl, like me, 
that could make you happy. No, Peyton, you are formed 
25 for great and glorious actions, deeds of daring and renown, 
and should be united to a soul like your own; one that 
can rise above the weakness of her sex. I should be a 
weight to drag you to the dust; but with a different spirit 
in your companion, you might soar to the very pinnacle 
30 of earthly glory. To such a one, therefore, I resign you 
freely, if not cheerfully; and pray, oh, how fervently do I 
pray ! that with such a one you may be happy.” 

“Lovely enthusiast!” cried Dunwoodie, “you know not 
yourself, nor me. It is a woman, mild, gentle, and de- 
35 pendent as yourself, that my very nature loves; deceive 
not yourself with visionary ideas of generosity, which will 
only make me miserable.” 

“Farewell, Major Dunwoodie,” said the agitated girl, 
pausing for a moment to gasp for breath; “forget that you 
40 ever knew me — remember the claims of your bleeding 
country; and be happy.” 


THE SPY 


223 


“ Happy ! ” repeated the youthful soldier, bitterly, as he 
saw her light form gliding through the gate of the lawn, 
and disappearing behind its shrubbery; “yes, I am now 
happy, indeed ! ’ 

Throwing himself into the saddle, he plunged his spurs 5 
into his horse, and soon overtook his squadron, which was 
marching slowly over the hilly roads of the country, to gain 
the banks of the Hudson. 

But painful as were the feelings of Dunwoodie at this 
unexpected termination of the interview with his mistress, 10 
they were but light compared with those which were ex- 
perienced by the fond girl herself. Frances had, with the 
keen eye of jealous love, easily detected the attachment of 
Isabella Singleton to Dunwoodie. Delicate and retiring 
herself, it never could present itself to her mind that this 15 
love had been unsought. Ardent in her own affections, 
and artless in their exhibition, she had early caught the 
eye of the young soldier; but it required all the manly 
frankness of Dunwoodie to court her favour, and the most 
pointed devotion to obtain his conquest. This done, his 20 
I power was durable, entire, and engrossing. But the un- 
I usual occurrences of the few preceding days, the altered 
imien of her lover during those events, his unwonted in- 
difference to herself, and chiefly the romantic idolatry of 
Isabella, had aroused new sensations in her bosom. With 25 
a dread of her lover’s integrity had been awakened the 
never-failing concomitant of the purest affection, a dis- 
trust of her own merits. In the moment of enthusiasm, 
the task of resigning her lover to another, who might be 
more worthy of him, seemed easy ; but it is in vain that 3 ° 
the imagination attempts to deceive the heart. Dunwoodie 
had no sooner disappeared, than our heroine felt all the 
misery of her situation; and if the youth found some relief 
in the cares of his command, Frances was less fortunate in 
the performance of a duty imposed on her by filial piety. 35 
The removal of his son had nearly destroyed the little 
energy of Mr. Wharton, who required all the tenderness of 
his remaining children to convince him that he was able 
to perform the ordinary functions of life. 


CHAPTER XX 


Flatter and praise, commend, extol their graces, 
Though ne’er so black, say they have angels’ faces; 
That man who hath a tongue I say is no man, 

If with that tongue he cannot win a woman. 

Two Gentlemen of Verona. 


In making the arrangements by which Captain Lawt';h 
had been left, with Sergeant Hollister and twelve me , as 
a guard over the wounded, and heavy baggage of the corps 
Dunwoodie had consulted not only the information which 
5 had been conveyed in the letter of Colonel Singleton, but' 
the bruises of his comrade’s body. In vain Lawton de-^ 
dared himself fit for any duty that man could perform, ora 
plainly intimated that his men would never follow Tom| 
Mason to a charge with the alacrity and confidence withfj 
lo which they followed himself ; his commander was firm,! 
and the reluctant Captain was compelled to comply witm 
as good a grace as he could assume. Before parting. Dun-)" 
woodie repeated his caution to keep a watchful eye on the 
inmates of the cottage; and especially enjoined him, if 
15 any movements of a particularly suspicious nature were' 
seen in the neighbourhood, to break up from his present' 
quarters, and to move down with his party, and take pos-J^ 
session of the domains of Mr. Wharton. A vague suspicion 
of danger to the family had been awakened in the breasf 
20 of the Major, by the language of the pedler, although he" 
was unable to refer it to any particular source, or to under-[ 
stand why it was to be apprehended. 

For some time after the departure of the troops, the" 
Captain was walking before the door of the “Hotel,” in^ 
25 wardly cursing his fate, that condemned him to an inglori- 
ous idleness, at a moment when a meeting with the enemy [| 
might be expected, and replying to the occasional queries^ 
of Betty, who, from the interior of the building, ever andl 
anon demanded, in a high tone of voice, an explanation of‘’j 
30 various passages in the pedler’s escape, which as yet she 

224 


THE SPY 


225 


I could not comprehend. At this instant he was joined by 
I the surgeon, who had hitherto been engaged among his 
patients in a distant building, and was profoundly ignorant 
|t' of every thing that had occurred, even to the departure of 
l| the troops. 5 

'I “Where are all the sentinels, John?’’ he enquired, as he 
S! gazed around with a look of curiosity, “and why are you 
iJhere, alone?'’ 

' “Off — all off, with Dunwoodie, to the river. You and 
I are left here to take care of a few sick men and some 10 
‘ women." 

I “I am glad, however,” said the surgeon, “that Major 
r Dunwoodie had consideration enough not to move the 
wounded. Here, you Mrs. Elizabeth Flanagan, hasten with 
some food, that I ma}’’ appease my appetite. I have a dead 15 
body to dissect, and am in haste.” 

“And here, you Mister Doctor Archibald Sitgreaves,” 
echoed Betty, showing her blooming countenance from a 
broken window of the kitchen, “you are ever a coming 
too late; here is nothing to ate but the skin of Jenny, and 20 
the body yee'r mintioning.” 

“Woman!” said the surgeon, in anger, “do you take 
me for a cannibal, that you address your filthy discourse to 
;me, in this manner? I bid you hasten with such food as 
may be proper to be received into the stomach fasting.” 25 

“And I'm sure it’s for a pop-gun that I should be taking 
jmu sooner than for a cannon-ball,” said Betty, winking at 
the Captain; “and I tell yee that it’s fasting you must 
be, unless yee'l let me cook yee a steak from the skin of 
i Jenny. The boys have ate me up intirely.” 30 

Lawton now interfered to preserve the peace, and assured 
:the surgeon that he had already despatched the proper 
persons in quest of food for the party. A little mollified 
Iwith this explanation, the operator soon forgot his hunger, 
:and declared his intention of proceeding to business at 35 
once. 

j “And where is your subject?” asked Lawton. 

' “The pedler,” said the other, glancing a look at the 
jsign-post. “ I made Hollister put a stage so high that the 
neck would not be dislocated by the fall, and I intend mak- 4° 
ing as handsome a skeleton of him, as there is in the States 

Q 


226 


THE SPY 


of North America; the fellow has good points, and his 
bones are well knit. I will make a perfect beauty of him. 

I have long been wanting something of this sort to send 
as a present to my old aunt in Virginia, who was so kind 
5 to me when a boy.” 

“The devil!” cried Lawton; “would you send the old 
woman a dead man’s bones ? ” _ : 

“Why not?” said the surgeon; “what nobler object is i 
there in nature than the figure of a man — and the skeleton ■ 
10 may be called his elementary parts. But what has been 
done with the body?” 

“Off too.” 

“Off! and who has dared to interfere with my per- 
quisites?” 

15 “Sure, jist the divil,” said Betty ; “and who’ll be taking I 
yeerself away some of these times too, without asking yeer i 
lave.” I 

“Silence, you witch!” said Lawton, with difficulty sup- 1 
pressing a laugh; “is this the manner in which to address 
20 an officer ? ” 

“Who called me the filthy Elizabeth Flanagan?” cried i; 
the washerwoman, snapping her fingers contemptuously; ^ 
“I can remimber a frind for a year, and don’t forgit an ^ 
inimy for a month.” 

25 But the friendship, or enmity of Mrs. Flanagan was alike , 
indifferent to the surgeon, who could think of nothing buti 
his loss ; and Lawton was obliged to explain to his friend f 
the apparent manner in which it had happened. 

“And a lucky escape it was for yee, my jewel of a doc- 
30 tor,” cried Betty, as the Captain concluded. “Sargeant 
Hollister, who saw him face to face, as it might be, says 
it’s Beelzeboob, and no pidler, unless it may be in a small 
matter of lies and thefts, and sich wickedness. Now a 
pretty figure yee would have been in cutting up Beelze- 
35 boob, if the Major had hanged him. I don’t think it’s very 
asy he would have been under yeer knife.” 

Thus doubly disappointed in his meal and his business, 
Sitgreaves suddenly declared his intention of visiting the 
“Locusts,” and enquiring into the state of Captain Single- 
40 ton. Lawton was ready for the excursion ; and mounting, 
they were soon on the road, though the surgeon was obliged 


THE SPY 


227 


to submit to a few more jokes from the washerwoman, 
before he could get out of hearing. For some time the 
two rode in silence, when Lawton, perceiving that his com- 
panion’s temper was somewhat ruffled by his disappoint- 
ments and Betty’s attack, made an effort to restore the 5 
tranquillity of his feelings. 

“That was a charming song, Archibald, that you com- 
menced last evening, when we were interrupted by the 
party that brought in the pedler,” he said: “the allusion 
to Galen was much to the purpose.” 10 

“I knew you would like it. Jack, when you had got the 
fumes of the wine out of your head. Poetry is a respect- 
able art, though it wants the precision of the exact sciences, 
and the natural beneficence of the physical. Considered 
in reference to the wants of life, I should define poetry as 15 
an emollient, rather than as a succulent.”® 

“And yet your ode was full of the meat of wit.” 

“Ode is by no means a proper term for the composition; 

I should term it a classical ballad.” 

“Very probably,” said the trooper; “hearing only one 20 
verse, it was difficult to class the composition.” 

The surgeon involuntarily hemmed, and began to clear 
his throat, although scarcely conscious himself to what 
the preparation tended. But the Captain, rolling his dark 
eyes towards his companion, and observing him to be 25 
sitting with great uneasiness on his horse, continued — 
“The air is still, and the road solitary — why not give 
the remainder? It is never too late to repair a loss.” 

“My dear John, if I thought it would correct the errors 
you have imbibed, from habit and indulgence, nothing 30 
could give me more pleasure.” 

“We are fast approaching some rocks on our left; the 
echo will double my satisfaction.” 

Thus encouraged, and somewhat impelled by the opinion 
that he both sang and wrote with taste, the surgeon set 35 
about complying with the request in sober earnest. Some 
little time was lost in clearing his throat, and getting the 
proper pitch of his voice; but no sooner were these two 
points achieved, than Lawton had the secret delight of 
hearing his friend commence — 4 ° 

“ ‘ Hast thou ever — ’ 


228 


THE SPY 


''Hush!” interrupted the trooper; "what rustling noise 
is that among the rocks?” 

"It must have been the rushing of the melody. A 
powerful voice is like the breathing of the winds. 

5 ' Hast thou ever — ’ ” 

"Listen!” said Lawton, stopping his horse. He had 
not done speaking, when a stone fell at his feet, and rolled 
harmlessly across the path. 

"A friendly shot, that,” cried the trooper; "neither the 
lo weapon, nor its force, implies much ill-will.” 

“Blows from stones seldom produce more than con- 
tusions,” said the operator, bending his gaze in every 
direction in vain, in quest of the hand from which the mis- 
sile had been hurled; "it must be meteoric; there is no 
15 living being in sight, except ourselves,” 

"It would be easy to hide a regiment behind those 
rocks,” returned the trooper, dismounting, and taking the 
stone in his hand — "Oh! here is the explanation along 
with the mystery.” So saying, he tore a piece of paper 
20 that had been ingeniously fastened to the small fragment 
of rock which had thus singularly fallen before him; and 
opening it, the Captain read the following words, written 
in no very legible hand — 

“A musket bullet will go farther than a stone, and things 
2 5 more dangerous than yarbs for wounded men lie hid in the 
rocks of West-Chester. The horse may be good, but can he 
mount a precipice f” 

"Thou sayest the truth, strange man,” said Lawton; 
"courage and activity would avail but little against as- 
30 sassination and these rugged passes.” Remounting his 
horse, he cried aloud — "Thanks, unknown friend; your 
caution will be remembered.” 

A meagre hand was extended for an instant over a rock, 
in the air, and afterwards nothing further was seen, or 
35 heard, in that quarter, by the soldiers. 

“Quite an extraordinary interruption,” said the as- 
tonished Sitgreaves, “and a letter of a very mysterious 
meaning.” 

"Oh! His nothing but the wit of some bumpkin, who 


THE SPY 


229 


thinks to frighten two of the Virginians by an artifice of 
this kind,” said the trooper, placing the billet in his pocket; 
/‘but let me tell you, Mr. Archibald Sitgreaves, you were 
• wanting to dissect, just now, a damn’d honest fellow,” 

“It was the pedler — one of the most notorious spies in s 
the enemy’s service; and I must say that I think it would 
be an honour to such a man to be devoted to the uses of 
science.” 

“He may be a spy — he must be one,” said Lawton, 
musing; “but he has a heart above enmity, and a soul lo 
that would honour a soldier.” 

The surgeon turned a vacant eye on his companion as he 
uttered this soliloquy, while the penetrating looks of the 
trooper had already discovered another pile of rocks, 
which, jutting forward, nearly obstructed the highway 15 
that wound directly around its base. 

“What the steed cannot mount, the foot of man can 
overcome,” exclaimed the wary partisan. Throwing him- 
self again from his saddle, and leaping a wall of stone, he 
began to ascend the hill at a pace which would soon have 20 
given him a bird’s-eye view of the rocks in question, to- 
gether with all their crevices. This movement was no 
sooner made, than Lawton caught a glimpse of the figure 
of a man stealing rapidly from his approach, and disap- 
pearing on the opposite side of the precipice. 25 

“Spur, Sitgreaves — spur,” shouted the trooper, dashing 
over every impediment in pursuit, “and murder the villain 
as he flies.” 

The former part of the request was promptly complied 
with, and a few moments brought the surgeon in full view 30 
of a man armed with a musket, who was crossing the road, 
and evidently seeking the protection of the thick wood on 
its opposite side. 

“Stop, my friend — stop until Captain Lawton comes 
up, if you please,” cried the surgeon, observing him to flee 35 
with a rapidity that baffled his horsemanship. But as if 
the invitation contained new terrors, the fbotman redoubled 
his efforts, nor paused even to breathe, until he had reached 
his goal, when, turning on his heel, he discharged his 
musket towards the surgeon, and was out of sight in an 40 
instant. To gain the highway, and throw himself into his 


230 


THE SPY 


saddle, detained Lawton but a moment, and he rode to 
the side of his comrade just as the figure disappeared. 

“Which way has he fled?’’ cried the trooper. 

“John,” said the surgeon, “am I not a non-combatant?” 

5 “Whither has the rascal fled?” cried Lawton, im- 
patiently. 

“Where you cannot follow — into that wood. But I 
repeat, John, am I not a non-combatant?” 

The disappointed trooper, perceiving that his enemy 
lo had escaped him, now turned his eyes, which were flashing 
with anger, upon his comrade, and gradually his muscles 
lost their rigid compression, his brow relaxed, and his look : 
changed from its fierce expression, to the covert laughter ' 
which so often distinguished his countenance. The sur- 
i5geon sat in dignified composure on his horse; his thin ; 
body erect, and his head elevated with the indignation of j 
one conscious of having been unjustly treated. 

“Why did you suffer the villain to escape?” demanded | 
the Captain. “Once within reach of my sabre, and I | 
20 would have given you a subject for the dissecting table.” \ 

“’Twas impossible to prevent it,” said the surgeon, > 
pointing to the bars, before which he had stopped his i 
horse. — “The rogue threw himself on the other side of , 
this fence, and left me where you see; nor would the man 
25 in the least attend to my remonstrances, or to an intima- • 
tion that you wished to hold discourse with him.” 

“He was truly a discourteous rascal; but w^hy did you 
not leap the fence, and compel him to a halt? — you see • 
but three of the bars are up, and Betty Flanagan could i 
30 clear them on her cow.” 

The surgeon, for the first time, withdrew his eyes from I 
the place where the fugitive had disappeared, and turned •! 
his look on his comrade. His head, however, was not j 
permitted to lower itself in the least, as he replied — I 
35 “I humbly conceive. Captain Lawton, that neither Mrs. \ 
Elizabeth Flanagan, nor her cow, is an example to be ' 
emulated by Dr. Archibald Sitgreaves: it would be but 
a sorry compliment to science, to say, that a Doctor of 
Medicine had fractured both his legs, by injudiciously 
40 striking them against a pair of bar-posts.” While speak- I 
ing, the surgeon raised the limbs in question to a nearly I 


THE SPY 


231 


horizontal position, an attitude which really appeared to 
j bid defiance to any thing like a passage for himself through 
the defile; but the trooper, disregarding this ocular proof 
of the impossibility of the movement, cried hastily — 

‘‘Here was nothing to stop you, man; I could leap a 5 
platoon through, boot and thigh, without pricking with a 
single spur. Pshaw ! I have often charged upon the bayo- 
nets of infantry, over greater difficulties than this.” 

“You will please to remember. Captain John Lawton, 
that I am not the riding-master of the regiment — nor a 10 
drill sergeant — nor a crazy cornet; no, sir — and I speak 
it with a due respect for the commission of the continental 
Congress — nor an inconsiderate captain, who regards his 
own life as little as that of his enemies. I am only, sir, a 
poor humble man of letters, a mere Doctor of Medicine, 15 
an unworthy graduate of Edinburgh, and a surgeon of 
dragoons; nothing more, I do assure you. Captain John 
Lawton.” So saying, he turned his horse’s head towards 
the cottage, and recommenced his ride. 

“Ay! you speak the truth,” muttered the dragoon; 20 
“had I but the meanest rider of my troop with me, I 
should have taken the scoundrel, and given at least one 
victim to the laws. But, Archibald, no man can ride well 
who straddles in this manner like the Colossus of Rhodes.® 
You should depend less on your stirrup, and keep your 25 
seat by the power of the knee.” 

“With proper deference to your experience. Captain 
Lawton,” returned the surgeon, “I conceive myself to be 
no incompetent judge of muscular action, whether in the 
knee, or any other part of the human frame. And al- 3° 
though but humbly educated, I am not now to learn that 
the wider the base, the more firm is the superstructure.” 

“Would you fill a highway, in this manner, with one 
pair of legs, when half a dozen might pass together in com- 
fort, stretching them abroad like the scythes of the ancient 35 
chariot wheels ? ” 

The allusion to the practice of the ancients somewhai 
softened the indignation of the surgeon, and he replied, 
with rather less hauteur — 

“You should speak with reverence of the usages of those 40 
who have gone before us, and who, however ignorant they 


232 


THE SPY 


were in matters of science, and particularly that of surgery, 
yet furnished many brilliant hints to our own improve- 
ments. Now, sir, I have no doubt that Galen has operated 
on wounds occasioned by these very scythes that you men- 
5 tion, although we can find no evidence of the fact in con- 
temporary writers. Ah ! they must have given dreadful 
injuries, and, I doubt not, caused great uneasiness to the 
medical gentlemen of that day.’’ 

“ Occasionally a body must have been left in two pieces, 
lo to puzzle the ingenuity of those gentry to unite. Yet, 
venerable and learned as they were, I doubt not they did 
it.” 

“ What ! unite two parts of the human body, that have 
been severed by an edged instrument, to any of the purposes 
15 of animal life?” 

‘‘ That have been rent asunder by a scythe, and are united 
to do military duty,” said Lawton. 

“ ’Tis impossible — quite impossible,” cried the surgeon; 
‘Gt is in vain. Captain Lawton, that human ingenuity en- 
2odeavours to baffle the efforts of nature. Think, my dear 
sir, in this case you separate all the arteries — injure all 
of the intestines — sever all of the nerves and sinews, and, 
what is of more consequence, you — ” 

“You have said enough. Dr. Sitgreaves, to convince a 
25 member of a rival school. Nothing shall ever tempt me 
willingly to submit to be divided in this irretrievable man- 
ner.” 

“Certes, there is little pleasure in a wound which, from 
its nature, is incurable.” 

30 “ I should think so,” said Lawton dryly. 

“What do you think is the greatest pleasure in life?” 
asked the operator suddenly. 

“ That must greatly depend on taste.” 

“Not at all,” cried the surgeon; “it is in witnessing, or 
35 rather feeling, the ravages of disease repaired by the lights 
of science co-operating with nature. I once broke my little 
finger intentionally, in order that I might reduce the fracture 
and watch the cure: it was only on a small scale, you know, 
dear John; still the thrilling sensation excited by the knit- 
40 ting of the bone, aided by the contemplation of the art of 
man thus acting in unison with nature, exceeded any other 


THE SPY 


233 


enjoyment that I have ever experienced. Now, had it been 
one of the more important members, such as the leg or arm, 
how much greater must the pleasure have been!’’ 

“Or the neck,” said the trooper; but their desultory 
discourse was interrupted by their arrival at the cottage 5 
of Mr. Wharton. No one appearing to usher them into an 
apartment, the Captain proceeded to the door of the par- 
lour, where he knew visitors were commonly received. 
On opening it, he paused for a moment, in admiration at 
the scene within. The person of Colonel Wellmere first 10 
met his eye, ' bending towards the figure of the blushing 
Sarah, with an earnestness of manner that prevented the 
noise of Lawton’s entrance from being heard by either of 
the parties. Certain significant signs, which were embraced 
at a glance by the prying gaze of the trooper, at once made 15 
him a master of their secret; and he was about to retire 
as silently as he had advanced, when his companion, push- 
ing himself through the passage, abruptly entered the room. 
Advancing instantly to the chair of Wellmere, the surgeon 
instinctively laid hold of his arm, and exclaimed — 20 

“ Bless me ! — a quick and irregular pulse — flushed 
cheek and fiery eye — • strong febrile symptoms, and such as 
must be attended to.” While speaking, the doctor, who was 
much addicted to practising in a summary way, — a weak- 
ness of most medical men in military practice, — had already 25 
produced his lancet, and was making certain other indica- 
tions of his intentions to proceed at once to business. But 
Colonel Wellmere, recovering from the confusion of the 
surprise, arose from his seat haughtily, and said — 

“ Sir, it is the warmth of the room that lends me the 30 
colour, and I am already too much indebted to your skill 
to give you any farther trouble; Miss Wharton knows that 
I am quite well, and I do assure you that I never felt better 
or happier in my life.” 

There was a peculiar emphasis on the latter part of this 35 
speech, that, however it might gratify the feelings of Sarah, 
brought the colour to her cheeks again; and Sitgreaves, as 
his eye followed the direction of those of his patient, did 
not fail to observe it. 

“Your arm, if you please, madam,” said the surgeon, 4 ° 
advancing with a bow; “anxiety and watching have done 


234 


THE SPY 


■5 


their work on your delicate frame, and there are symptoms 
about you that must not be neglected/' 

"Excuse me, sir,” said Sarah, recovering herself withf 
womanly pride; "the heat is oppressive, and I will retire! 

5 and acquaint Miss Peyton with your presence.” ■ 

There was but little difficulty in practising on the ab-^ 
stracted simplicity of the surgeon; but it was necessary 
for Sarah to raise her eyes to return the salutation of Law- ■. 
ton, as he bowed his head nearly to a level with the hand 
10 that held open the door for her passage. One look was 
sufficient; she was able to control her steps sufficiently: 
to retire with dignity ; but no sooner was she relieved from 
the presence of all observers, than she fell into a chair, r 
and abandoned herself to a feeling of mingled shame andt 
IS pleasure. ; 

A little nettled at the contumacious deportment of the . 
British Colonel, Sitgreaves, after once more tendering ser- | 
vices that were again rejected, withdrew to the chamber | 
of young Singleton, whither Lawton had already preceded J 
20 him. Li 


!i 


iJ'-.VA-i' 


CHAPTER XXI 


i Oh 1 Henry, when thou deign 'st to sue, 

,, Can I thy suit withstand ? 

I' When thou, lov’d youth, hast won my heart, 

|j Can I refuse my hand? 

i Hermit of Warkworth. 

The graduate of Edinburgh found his patient rapidly 

I improving in health, and entirely free from fever. His 
sister, with a cheek that was, if possible, paler than on her 
" arrival, watched around his couch with tender care; and 
the ladies of the cottage had not, in the midst of their sor- 5 
■ rows and varied emotions, forgotten to discharge the duties 
of hospitality. Frances felt herself impelled towards their 
disconsolate guest, with an interest for which she could not 
account, and with a force that she could not control. She 
had unconsciously connected the fates of Dunwoodie and 10 
Isabella in her imagination, and she felt, with the romantic 
ardour of a generous mind, that she was serving her former 
lover most, by exhibiting kindness to her he loved best. 
Isabella received her attentions with gratitude, but neither 
of them indulged in any allusions to the latent source of 15 
their uneasiness. The observation of Miss Peyton seldom 
penetrated beyond things that were visible, and to her the 
situation of Henry Wharton seemed to furnish an awful 
excuse for the fading cheeks and tearful eyes of her niece. 

If Sarah manifested less of care than her sister, still the 20 
unpractised aunt was not at a loss to comprehend the reason. 
Love is a holy feeling with the virtuous of the female sex, • 
and it hallows all that comes within its influence. Although 
Miss Peyton mourned with sincerity over the danger which 
threatened her nephew, she well knew that an active cam- 25 
paign was not favourable to love, and the moments that 
were thus accidentally granted were not to be thrown away. 

Several days now passed without any interruption of the 
usual avocations of the inhabitants of the cottage, or the 

235 


- 236 


THE SPY 


party at the Four Corners. The former were supporting 
their fortitude with the certainty of Henry’s innocence, 
and a strong reliance on Dunwoodie’s exertions in his behalf, 
and the latter waiting with impatience the intelligence, that 
5 was hourly expected, of a conflict, and their orders to depart. 
Captain Lawton, however, ^vaited for both these events 
in vain. Letters from the Major announced that the enemy, 
finding that the party which was to co-operate with them 
had been defeated, and was withdrawn, had retired also 
lo behind the works of Fort Washington, ° where they con- 
tinued inactive, threatening constantly to strike a blow 
in revenge for their disgrace. The trooper was enjoined to 
vigilance, and the letter concluded with a compliment to 
his honour, zeal, and undoubted bravery. 

15 “Extremely flattering. Major Dunwoodie,” muttered 
the dragoon, as he threw down this epistle, and stalked 
across the floor to quiet his impatience. “ A proper guard 
have you selected for this service : let me see — I have to 
watch over the interests of a crazy, irresolute old man, who 
20 does not know whether he belongs to us or to the enemy ; 
four women, three of whom are well enough in themselves, 
but who are not immensely flattered by my society; and 
the fourth, who, good as she is, is on the wrong side of forty ; 
some two or three blacks ; a talkative housekeeper, that does 
25 nothing but chatter about gold and despisables, and signs 
and omens; and poor George Singleton. Well, a comrade 
in suffering has a claim on a man, — so I’ll make the best 
of it.” 

As he concluded this soliloquy, the trooper took a seat 
30 and began to whistle, to convince himself how little he cared 
about the matter, when, by throwing his booted leg care- 
lessly round, he upset the canteen that held his whole stock 
of brandy. The accident was soon repaired, but in replac- 
ing the wooden vessel, he observed a billet lying on the 
35 bench, on which the liquor had been placed. It was soon 
opened, and he read — “ The moon will not rise till after 
midnight — a fit time for deeds of darkness.” ° There was 
no mistaking the hand; it was clearly the same that had 
given him the timely warning against assassination, and 
40 the trooper continued, for a long time, musing on the nature 
of these t^wo notices, and the motives that could induce the 


THE SPY 


237 


I 


J pedler to favour an implacable enemy in the manner that 
I he had latterly done. That he was a spy of the enemy, 

! Lawton knew; for the fact of his conveying intelligence 
to the English commander-in-chief, of a party of Americans 
that were exposed to the enemy, was proved most clearly 5 
a against him on the trial for his life. The consequences of 
I his treason had been avoided, it is true, by a lucky order 
from Washington, which withdrew the regiment a short 
'I time before the British appeared to cut it off, but still the 
ij crime was the same; perhaps, thought the partisan, he 10 
* wishes to make a friend of me against the event of another 
i capture; but, at all events, he spared my life on one occa- 

I I sion, and saved it on another. I will endeavour to be as 
generous as himself, and pray that my duty may never 
interfere with my feelings. 15 

Whether the danger, intimated in the present note, 
threatened the cottage or his own party, the Captain was 
' uncertain, but he inclined to the latter opinion, and de- 
termined to beware how he rode abroad in the dark. To a 
■ man in a peaceable country, and in times of quiet and order, 20 
j the indifference with which the partisan regarded the im- 
j pending danger would be inconceivable. His reffections 
I on the subject were more directed towards devising means 
! to entrap his enemies, than to escape their machinations. 

■ But the arrival of the surgeon, who had been to pay his 25 
I daily visit to the Locusts, interrupted his meditations. 

Sitgreaves brought an invitation from the mistress of the 
I mansion to Captain Lawton, desiring that the cottage might 
be honoured with his presence at an early hour on that 
i evening. 3° 

j “Ha!” cried the trooper; “then they have received a 
; letter, also.” 

} “ I think nothing more probable,” said the surgeon ; “ there 

I is a chaplain at the cottage from the royal army, who has 
come out to exchange the British wounded, and who has an 35 
order from Colonel Singleton for their delivery. But a more 
mad project than to remove them now was never adopted.” 

“ A priest, say you 1 — is he a hard drinker — a real camp- 
idler — a. fellow to breed a famine in a regiment ? or does 
he seem a man who is in earnest in his trade?” 40 

“ A very respectable and orderly gentleman, and not un- 


238 


THE SPY 


reasonably given to intemperance, judging from the out- 
ward symptoms,” returned the surgeon; “and a man who 
really says grace in a very regular and appropriate manner.” 

“And does he stay the night?” 

5 “Certainly, he waits for his cartel; but hasten, John, we 
have but little time to waste, I will just step up and bleed 
two or three of the Englishmen who are to move in the 
morning, in order to anticipate inflammation, and be with 
you immediately.” 

lo The gala suit of Captain Lawton was easily adjusted to 
his huge frame, and his companion being ready, they once 
more took their route towards the cottage. Roanoke had 
been as much benefited by a few days’ rest as his master; 
and Lawton ardently wished, as he curbed his gallant 
1 5 steed, on passing the well-remembered rocks, that his 
treacherous enemy stood before him, mounted and armed 
as himself. But no enemy, nor any disturbance whatever, 
interfered with their progress, and they reached the Locusts 
just as the sun was throwing his setting rays on the valley, 
20 and tingeing the tops of the leafless trees with gold. It 
never required more than a single look to acquaint the 
trooper with the particulars of every scene that was not 
uncommonly veiled, and the first survey that he took on 
entering the house, told him more than the observations of 
25 a day .had put into the possession of Dr. Sitgreaves. 
Miss Peyton accosted him with a smiling welcome, that ex- 
ceeded the bounds of ordinary courtesy, and which evidently 
flowed more from feelings that were connected with the 
heart, than from manner. Frances glided about, tearful 
30 and agitated, while Mr. Wharton stood ready to receive 
them, decked in a suit of velvet that would have been con- 
spicuous in the gayest drawing-room. Colonel Wellmere 
was in the uniform of an officer of the household troops 
of his prince, and Isabella Singleton sat in the parlour, 
35 clad in the habiliments of joy, but with a countenance that 
belied her appearance; while her brother by her side, 
looked, with a cheek of flitting colour, and an eye of in- 
tense interest, like any thing but an invalid. As it was 
the third day that he had left his room. Dr. Sitgreaves, 
40 who began to stare about him in stupid wonder, forgot to 
reprove his patient for imprudence. Into this scene Cap- 


THE SPY 


239 


tain Lawton moved with all the composure and gravity of 
a man whose nerves were not easily discomposed by novel- 
ties. His compliments were received as graciously as 
they were offered, and after exchanging a few words with 
the different individuals present, he approached the sur- 5 
geon, who had withdrawn, in a kind of confused astonish- 
ment, to rally his senses. 

“ John,’’ whispered the surgeon, with awakened curiosity, 
“what means this festival?’’ 

“ That your wig and my black head would look the 10 
better for a little of Betty Flanagan’s flour; but it is too 
late now, and we must fight the battle armed as you see.” 

“ Observe, here comes the army chaplain in his full robes 
as a Doctor Divinitatis°; what can it mean?” 

“An exchange,” said the trooper; “the wounded of 15 
Cupid are to meet and settle their accounts with the god, 
in the way of plighting faith to suffer from his archery no 
more.” 

The surgeon laid a finger on the side of his nose, and he 
began to comprehend the case. 20 

“ Is it not a crying shame, that a sunshine-hero, and an 
enemy, should thus be suffered to steal away one of the 
fairest plants that grows in our soil,” muttered Lawton; 

“ a flower fit to be placed in the bosom of any man.” 

“ If he be not more accommodating as a husband than as 25 
a patient, John, I fear me that the lady will lead a troubled 
life.” 

“ Let her,” said the trooper, indignantly ; “ she has chosen 
from her country’s enemies, and may she meet with a 
foreigner’s virtues in her choice.” 3 ° 

Further conversation was interrupted by Miss Peyton, 
who, advancing, acquainted them that they had been in- 
vited to grace the nuptials of her eldest niece and Colonel 
Wellmere. The gentlemen bowed; and the good aunt, with 
an inherent love of propriety, went on to add, that the ac- 35 
quaintance was of an old date, and the attachment by no 
means a sudden thing. To this Lawton merely bowed 
still more ceremoniously; but the surgeon, who loved to 
hold converse with the virgin, replied — 

“ That the human mind was differently constituted in dif- 40 
ferent individuals. In some, impressions are vivid and 


240 


THE SPY 


transitory ; in others, more deep and lasting : — indeed, 
there are some philosophers who pretend to trace a con- 
nection between the physical and mental powers of the | 
animal ; but, for my part, madam, I believe that the one is 
5 much influenced by habit and association, and the other I 
subject altogether to the peculiar laws of matter.” ^ , 

Miss Peyton, in her turn, bowed her silent assent to this i 
remark, and retired with dignity, to usher the intended i 
bride into the presence of the company. The hour had ' 
lo arrived when American custom has decreed that the vows i 
of wedlock must be exchanged; and Sarah, blushing with f 
a variety of emotions, followed her aunt to the drawing- .| 
room. Wellmere sprang to receive the hand that, with an ' 
averted face, she extended towards him, and, for the first ' 
15 time, the English Colonel appeared fully conscious of the ! 
important part that he was to act in the approaching cere- 
mony. Hitherto his air had been abstracted, and his man- 
ner uneasy ; but every thing, excepting the certainty of his ■ 
bliss, seemed to vanish at the blaze of loveliness that now 
20 burst on his sight. All arose from their seats, and the rev- 
erend gentleman had already opened the sacred volume, 
when the absence of Frances was noticed: Miss Peyton 
withdrew in search of her youngest niece, whom she found ' 
in her own apartment, and in tears. 

25 “Come, my love, the ceremony waits but for us,” said the 
aunt, affectionately entwining her arm in that of her niece; 
“endeavour to compose yourself, that proper honour may 
be done to the choice of your sister.” 

“Is he — can he be worthy of her?” 

30 “Can he be otherwise?” returned Miss Peyton; “is he 
not a gentleman ? — a gallant soldier, though an unfortunate 
one ? and certainly, my love, one who appears every way 
qualified to make any woman happy.” 

Frances had given vent to her feelings, and, with an effort, 
35 she collected sufficient resolution to venture to join the party 
below. But to relieve the embarrassment of this delay, the 
clergyman had put sundry questions to the bridegroom; 
one of which was by no means answered to his satisfaction. 
Wellmere was compelled to acknowledge that he was un- 
40 provided with a ring; and to perform" the marriage cere- 
mony without one, the divine pronounced to be canonically 


THE SPY 


241 


impossible. His appeal to Mr. Wharton, for the propriety 
of this decision, was answered affirmatively, as it would have 
been negatively, had the question been put in a manner to 
lead to such a result. The owner of the Locusts had lost 
the little energy he possessed, by the blow recently received s 
through his son, and his assent to the objection of the 
clergyman was as easily obtained as had been his consent 
to the premature proposals of Wellmere. In this stage of 
the dilemma. Miss Peyton and Frances appeared. The 
surgeon of dragoons approached the former, and as he lo 
handed her to a chair, observed — 

“ It appears, madam, that untoward circumstances have 
prevented Colonel Wellmere from providing all of the 
decorations that custom, antiquity, and the canons of the 
church have prescribed as indispensable to enter into the 15 
honourable state of wedlock.’' 

Miss Peyton glanced her quiet eye at the uneasy bride- 
groom, and perceiving him to be adorned with what she 
thought sufficient splendour, allowing for the time and the 
suddenness of the occasion, she turned her look on the 20 
speaker, as if to demand an explanation. 

The surgeon understood her wishes, and proceeded at 
once to gratify them. 

‘‘There is,” he observed, “an opinion prevalent, that 
the heart lies on the left side of the body, and that the con- 25 
nection between the members of that side and what may 
be called the seat of life, is more intimate than that which 
exists with their opposites. But this is an error that grows 
out of an ignorance of the organic arrangement of the hu- 
man frame. In obedience to this opinion, the fourth finger 30 
of the left hand is thought to contain a virtue that belongs 
to no other branch of that digitated member; and it is 
ordinarily encircled, during the solemnisation of wedlock, 
with a cincture or ring, as if to chain that affection to the 
marriage state, which is best secured by the graces of the 35 
female character.” While speaking, the operator laid his 
hand expressively on his heart, and he bowed nearly to the 
floor when he had concluded. 

“ I know not, sir, that I rightly understand your mean- 
ing,” said ^liss Peyton, whose want of comprehension was 40 
sufficiently excusable. 

R 


242 


THE SPY 


“A ring, madam — a ring is wanting for the ceremony.’’ 

The instant that the surgeon spoke explicitly, the awk- 
wardness of the situation was understood. She glanced 
her eyes at her nieces, and in the younger she read a secret 
5 exultation that somewhat displeased her; but the coun- 
tenance of Sarah was suffused with a shame that the con- 
siderate aunt well understood. Not for the world would 
she violate any of the observances of female etiquette. 
It suggested itself to all the females, at the same moment, 
lo that the wedding-ring of the late mother and sister was re- 
posing peacefully amid the rest of her jewellery, in a secret 
receptacle, that had been provided at an early day, to secure 
the valuables against the predatory inroads of the marauders 
who roamed through the county. Into this hidden vault, 
15 the plate, and whatever was most prized, made a nightly 
retreat, and there the ring in question had long lain, for- 
gotten until at this moment. But it was the business of 
the bridegroom, from time immemorial, to furnish this in- 
dispensable to wedlock, and on no account would Miss 
20 Peyton do any thing that transcended the usual reserve 
of the sex on this solemn occasion; certainly not until 
sufficient expiation for the offence had been made, by a due 
portion of trouble and disquiet. This material fact, there- 
fore, was not disclosed by either; the aunt consulting 
25 female propriety; the bride yielding to shame; and Frances 
rejoicing that an embarrassment, proceeding from almost 
any cause, should delay her sister’s vow. It was reserved 
for Dr. Sitgreaves to interrupt the awkward silence. 

“ If, madam, a plain ring, that once belonged to a sister 
30 of my own — ” He paused, and hemmed — “ If, madam, 
a ring of that description might be admitted to this honour, 
I have one that could be easily produced from my quarters 
at the Corners, and I doubt not it would fit the finger for 
which it is desired. There is a strong resemblance between 
35 — hem — between my late sister and Miss Wharton, in 
stature and anatomical figure; and, in all eligible subjects, 
the proportions are apt to be observed throughout the whole 
animal economy.” 

A glance of Miss Peyton’s eye recalled Colonel Wellmere 
40 to a sense of his duty, and springing from his chair, he 
assured the surgeon, that in no way could he confer a greater 


THE SPY 


243 


obligation on himself than by sending for that very ring. 
The operator bowed a little haughtily, and withdrew to 
fulfil his promise, by despatching a messenger on the errand. 
The aunt suffered him to retire ; but unwillingness to admit 
a stranger into the privacy of their domestic arrangements, 5 
induced her to follow and tender the services of Cjesar, 
instead of those of Sitgreaves’s man, who had volunteered 
for this duty. Katy Haynes was accordingly directed to 
summon the black to the. vacant parlour, and thither Miss 
Peyton and the surgeon repaired, to give their several 10 
instructions. 

The consent to this sudden union of Sarah and Wellmere, 
and especially at a time when the life of a member of the 
family was in such imminent jeopardy, was given from a 
conviction, that the unsettled state of the country would 15 
probably prevent another opportunity of the lovers meeting, 
and a secret dread on the part of Mr. Wharton, that the 
death of his son might, by hastening his own, leave his 
remaining children without a protector. But notwith- 
standing Miss Peyton had complied with her brother’s 20 
wish to profit by the accidental visit of a divine, she had not 
thought it necessary to blazon the intended nuptials of her 
niece to the neighbourhood, had even time been allowed : she 
thought, therefore, that she was now communicating a 
profound secret to the negro and her housekeeper. 25 

‘‘ Csesar,” she commenced, with a smile, ‘'you are now to 
learn that your young mistress, Miss Sarah, is to be united , 
to Colonel Wellmere this evening.” 

“I tink I see him afore,” said Csesar, chuckling; “old 
black man can tell when a young lady make up he mind.” 3 ° 

“ Reall}’-, Csesar, I find I have never given you credit for 
half the observation that you deserve; but as you already 
know on what emergency your services are required, listen 
to the directions of this gentleman, and take care to observe 
them strictly.” 35 

The black turned in quiet submission to the surgeon, who 
commenced as follows : — 

“ Csesar, your mistress has already acquainted you with 
the important event about to be solemnised within this 
habitation; but a cincture or ring is wanting to encircle 4 ° 
the finger of the bride ; a custom derived from the ancients. 


244 


THE SPY 


and which has been continued in the marriage forms of 
several branches of the Christian church, and which is even, 
by a species of typical wedlock, used in the installation of 
prelates, as you doubtless understand.’’ 

5 “ P’r’aps massa doctor will say him over ag’in,” interrupted 

the old negro, whose memory began to fail him, just as the 
other made so confident an allusion to his powers of com- 
prehension; “ I tink I get him by heart dis time.” 

It is impossible to gather honey from a rock, Csesar, 
lo and therefore I will abridge the little I have to say. Ride 
to the Four Corners, and present this note to Sergeant Hol- 
lister, or to Mrs. Elizabeth Flanagan, either of whom will 
furnish the necessary pledge of connubial affection; and 
return forthwith.” 

15 The letter which the surgeon put into the hands of his 
messenger, as he ceased, was conceived in the following 
terms : — 

“ If the fever has left Kinder, give him nourishment. 
Take three ounces more of blood from Watson. Have a 
20 search made that the woman Flanagan has left none of her 
jugs of alcohol in the hospital. Renew the dressings of 
Johnson, and dismiss Smith to duty. Send the ring, which 
is pendent from the chain of the watch, that I left w'ith you 
to time the doses, by the bearer. 

25 “Archibald Sitgreaves, M.D. 

Surgeon of Dragoons’' 

“ Csesar,” said Katy, when she was alone with the black, 
“put the ring, when you get it, in your left pocket, for that 
is nearest your heart; and by no means endeavour to try 
30 it on your finger, for it is unlucky.” 

“Try um on he finger?” interrupted the negro, stretching 
forth his bony knuckles; “ tink a Miss Sally’s ring go on old 
Csesar finger?” 

“ ’Tis not consequential whether it goes on or not,” said 
35 the housekeeper; “ but it is an evil omen to place a marriage- 
ring on the finger of another after wedlock, and of course 
it may be dangerous before.” 

“ I tell you, Katy, I neber tink to put um on a finger.” 

“Go then, Csesar, and do not forget the left pocket; be 
40 careful to take off your hat as you pass the grave-yard, and 


THE SPY 


245 


be expeditious; for nothing, I am certain, can be more 
trying to the patience, than thus to be waiting for the cere- 
mony, when a body has fully made up her mind to marry.’’ 

With this injunction Caesar quitted the house, and he was 
soon firmly fixed in the saddle. From his youth, the black, 5 
like all of his race, had been a hard rider ; but, bending under 
the weight of sixty winters, his .African blood had lost some 
of its native heat. The night was dark, and the wind whis- 
tled through the vale with the dreariness of November. 
When Caesar reached the grave-yard, he uncovered his 10 
grizzled head with superstitious awe, and he threw around 
him many a fearful glance, in momentary expectation of 
seeing something superhuman. There was sufficient light 
to discern a being of earthly mould stealing from among the 
graves, apparently with a design to enter the highway. It 15 
is in vain that philosophy and reason contend with early 
impressions, and poor C£Esar was even without the support 
of either of these frail allies. He was, however, well 
mounted on a coach-horse of Mr. Wharton’s, and, clinging 
to the back of the animal with instinctive skill, he aban- 20 
doned the rein to the beast. Hillocks, woods, rocks, fences, 
and houses ffew by him with the rapidity of lightning, and 
the black had just begun to think whither and on what 
business he was riding in this headlong manner, when he 
reached the place where the roads met, and the “Hotel 25 
Flanagan” stood before him in its dilapidated simplicity. 
The sight of a cheerful fire first told the negro that he had 
reached the habitation of man, and with it came all his 
dread of the bloody Virginians; — his duty must, however, 
be done, and, dismounting, he fastened the foaming animal 3° 
to a fence, and approached the window with cautious steps, 
to reconnoitre. 

Before a blazing fire sat Sergeant Hollister and Betty 
Flanagan, enjoying themselves over a liberal potation. 

“ I tell yee, Sargeant dear,” said Betty, removing the mug 35 
from her mouth, “ ’tis no rasonable to think it was more 
than the pidler himself; sure now, where was the smell of 
sulphur, and the wings, and the tail, and the cloven foot? 

— besides, Sargeant, it’s no dacent to tell a lone female that 
she had Beelzeboob for a bedfellow.” 4 ° 

“ It matters but little, Mrs. Flanagan, provided you es- 


246 


THE SPY 


cape his talons and fangs hereafter,” returned the veteran, 
following the remark by a heavy draught. 

Caesar heard enough to convince him, that little danger 
from this pair was to be apprehended. His teeth already 
5 began to chatter, and the cold without and the comfort 
within stimulated him greatly to enter. He made his 
approaches with proper caution, and knocked with extreme 
humility. The appearance of Hollister with a drawn sword, 
roughly demanding who was without, contributed in no 
I o degree to the restoration of his faculties; but fear itself 
lent him power to explain his errand. 

“Advance,” said the Sergeant, throwing a look of close 
scrutiny on the black, as he brought him to the light; “ad- 
vance, and deliver your despatches ; have you the counter- 
15 sign?” 

“ I don’t tink he know what dat be,” said the black, 
shaking in his shoes, “dough massa dat sent me gib me 
many tings to carry, dat he little understand.” 

“ Who ordered you on this duty, did you say?” 

20 “ Well, it war he doctor, heself, so he come up on a gallop, 

as he alway do on a doctor’s errand.” 

“ ’Twas Dr. Sitgreaves; he never knows the countersign 
himself. Now, blackey, had it been Captain Lawton, he 
would not have sent you here, close to a sentinel, with- 
25 out the countersign; for you might get a pistol bullet 
through your head, and that would be cruel to you; for 
although you be black, I am none of them who thinks 
niggers have no souls.” 

“ Sure a nagur has as much sowl as a white,” said Betty; 
30 “ come hither, ould man, and warm that shivering carcase 
of yeers by the blaze of this fire. I’m sure a Guinea nagur 
loves hate as much as a souldier loves his drop.” 

Csesar obeyed in silence, and a mulatto boy, who was 
sleeping on a bench in the room, was bidden to convey the 
35 note of the surgeon to the building where the wounded were 
quartered. 

“Here,” said the washerwoman, tendering to Caesar a 
taste of the article that most delighted herself, “ try a drop, 
smooty, ’twill warm the black sowl within your crazy body, 
40 and be giving you spirits as you are going homeward.” 

“I tell you, Elizabeth,” said the Sergeant, “that the 


THE SPY 


247 


: souls of niggers are the same as our own ; how often have I 
' heard the good Mr. Whitefield ° say, that there was no dis- 
i tinction of colour in heaven. Therefore it is reasonable to 
1 believe that the soul of this here black is as white as my own, 
or even Major Dunwoodie’s.” 5 

“ Be sure he be,” cried Csssar, a little tartly, whose courage 
: had revived by tasting the drop of Mrs. Flanagan. 

“It’s a good sowl that the Major is, any way,” returned 
the washerwoman; “and a kind sowl — ay, and a brave 
sowl too ; and yee’ll say all that yeerself, Sargeant, I’m 10 
I thinking.” 

' “For the matter of that,” returned the veteran, “there is 
one above even Washington, to judge of souls; but this I 
i will say, that Major Dunwoodie is a gentleman who never 
I says. Go, boys^ — but always says. Come, boys; and if a 15 
poor fellow is in want of a spur or a martingale, and the 
leather-whack is gone, there is never wanting the real silver 
: to make up the loss, and that from his own pocket too.” 

' “ Why, then, are you here idle when all that he holds most 

i dear are in danger ? ” cried a voice with startling abruptness ; 20 
“mount, mount, and follow your captain; arm and mount, 

I and that instantly, or you will be too late !” 
i This unexpected interruption produced an instantaneous 
confusion amongst the tipplers. Caesar fled instinctively 
into the fire-place, where he maintained his position in 25 
defiance of a heat that would have roasted a white man. 
Sergeant Hollister turned promptly on his heel, and seizing 
his sabre, the steel was glittering by the firelight, in the 
twinkling of an eye; but perceiving the intruder to be the 
pedler, who stood near the open door that led to the lean-to 3° 
in the rear, he began to fall back towards the position of 
the black, with a military intuition that taught him to 
concentrate his forces. Betty alone stood her ground, by 
the side of the temporary table. Replenishing the mug 
with a large addition of the article known to the soldiery 35 
by the name of “choke-dog,” she held it towards the pedler. 
The eyes of the washerwoman had for some time been swim- 
ming with love and liquor, and turning them good-naturedly 
on Birch, she cried — 

“Faith, but yee’re wilcome. Mister Pidler, or Mister 4° 
Birch, or Mister Beelzeboob, or what’s yeer name. Yee’re 


248 


THE SPY 


an honest divil any way, and I’m hoping that you found the 
pitticoats convanient. Come forward, dear, and fale the 
fire; Sargeant Hollister won’t be hurting you, for the fear 
of an ill turn you may be doing him hereafter — will yee, 
5 Sargeant, dear?” 

“Depart, ungodly man!” cried the veteran, edging still 
nearer to Caesar, but lifting his legs alternately as they 
scorched with the heat, “depart in peace! There is none 
here for thy service, and you seek the woman in vain, 
lo There is a tender mercy that will save her from thy talons.” 
The Sergeant ceased to utter aloud, but the motion of his 
lips continued, and a few scattering words of prayer were 
alone audible. 

The brain of the washerwoman was in such a state of 
15 confusion that she did not clearly comprehend the meaning 
of her suitor, but a new idea struck her imagination, and she 
broke forth — 

“If it’s me the man saaks, where’s the matter, pray? am 
I not a widowed body, and my own property? And you 
20 talk of tinderness, Sargeant; but it’s little I see of it any 
way: who knows but Mr. Beelzeboob here is free to spake 
his mind? I’m sure it is willing to hear I am.” 

“Woman,” said the pedler, “be silent; and you, foolish 
man, mount — arm and mount, and fly to the rescue of 
25 your officer, if you are worthy of the cause in which you 
serve, and would not disgrace the coat you wear.” The 
pedler vanished from the sight of the bewildered trio, with 
a rapidity that left them uncertain whither he had fled. 

On hearing the voice of an old friend, Caesar emerged from 
30 his corner, and fearlessly advanced to the spot where Betty 
had resolutely maintained her ground, though in a state of 
utter mental confusion. 

“I wish Harvey stop,” said the black; “if he ride down 
a road, I should like he company; — I don’t tink Johnny 
35 Birch hurt he own son.” 

“Poor ignorant wretch!” exclaimed the veteran, re- 
covering his voice with a long-drawn breath; “think you 
that figure was made of flesh and blood?” 

“Harvey an’t fleshy,” replied the black, “but he berry 
40 clebber man.” 

“ Pooh ! Sargeant dear,” exclaimed the washerwoman. 


THE SPY 


249 


!“talk rason for once, and mind what the knowing one tells 
yee; call out the boys, and ride a bit after Captain Jack; 
i rimimber, darling, that he told yee, the day, to be in readi- 
mess to mount at a moment’s warning.” 

“Ay, but not at a summons from the foul fiend. Let 5 
^ Captain Lawton, or Lieutenant Mason, or Cornet ° Skip- 
with, say the word, and who is quicker in the saddle than 

“Well, Sargeant, how often is it that yee’ve boasted to 
j myself that the corps wasn’t a bit afeard to face the divil?” 10 

“No more are we, in battle array, and by daylight; but 
it’s foolhardy and irreverent to tempt Satan, and on such 
I a night as this; listen how the wind whistles through the 
I trees ; and hark ! there is the howling of evil spirits abroad.” 

I “I see him,” said Cjesar, opening his eyes to a width that 15 
might have embraced more than an ideal form. 

“Where?” interrupted the Sergeant, instinctively laying 
his hand on the hilt of his sabre. 

“No — no,” said the black, “I see a Johnny Birch come 
out of he grave — Johnny walk afore he buried.” 20 

, “Ah! then he must have led an evil life indeed,” said 
Hollister; “the blessed in spirit lie quiet until the general 
muster, but wickedness disturbs the soul in this life as well 
as in that which is to come.” 

“And what is to come of Captain Jack?” cried Betty, 25 
angrily; “is it yeer orders that yee won’t mind, nor a warn- 
ing given? I’ll jist git my cart, and ride down and tell 
him that yee’re afeard of a dead man and Beelzeboob; and 
it isn’t succour he may be expicting from yee. I wonder 
^vho’ll be the orderly of the troop the morrow, then? — his 30 
name won’t be Hollister, any way.” 

“Nay, Betty, nay,” said the Sergeant, laying his hand 
familiarly on her shoulder ; “if there must be riding to-night, 
let it be by him whose duty it is to call out the men and to 
set an example. The Lord have mercy, and send us enemies 35 
of flesh and blood !” 

Another glass confirmed the veteran in a resolution that 
was only excited by a dread of his Captain’s displeasure, and 
he proceeded to summon the dozen men who had been left 
under his command. The boy arriving with the ring, 4° 
CiEsar placed it carefully in the pocket of his waistcoat next 


250 


THE SPY 


his heart, and, mounting, shut his eyes, seized his charger 
by the mane, and continued in a state of comparative in- 
sensibility, until the animal stopped at the door of the 
warm stable whence he had started. 

5 The movements of the dragoons, being timed to the order 
of a march, were much slower, for they were made with a 
watchfulness that was intended to guard against surprise 
from the evil one himself. 


CHAPTER XXII 


Be not your tongue thy own shame’s orator; 

Look sweet, speak fair, become disloyalty, 

Apparel vice like virtue’s harbinger. 

Comedy of Errors. 

The situation of the party in Mr. Wharton’s dwelling was 
sufficiently awkward, during the hour of Caesar’s absence; 
for such was the astonishing rapidity displayed by his 
courser, that the four miles of road was gone over, and the 
, events we have recorded had occurred, somewhat within 5 
I that period of time. Of course, the gentlemen strove to 
make the irksome moments fly as swiftly as possible; but 
premeditated happiness is certainly of the least joyous kind. 

! The bride and bridegroom are immemorially privileged to 
he dull, and but few of their friends seemed disposed, on the lo 
present occasion, to dishonour their example. The English 
! Colonel exhibited a proper portion of uneasiness at this 
unexpected interruption of his felicity, and he sat with a 
varying countenance by the side of Sarah, who seemed to 
be profiting by the delay to gather fortitude for the solemn 15 
ceremony. In the midst of this embarrassing silence. Dr. 
Sitgreaves addressed himself to Miss Peyton, by whose side 
he had contrived to procure a chair. 

“Marriage, madam, is pronounced to be honourable in the 
sight of God and man : and it may be said to be reduced, in 20 
the present age, to the laws of nature and reason. The 
ancients, in sanctioning polygamy, lost sight of the pro- 
visions of nature, and condemned thousands to misery; 
but with the increase of science have grown the wise ordi- 
nances of society, which ordain that man should be the 25 
husband of but one woman.” 

Wellmere glanced a fierce expression of disgust at the 
surgeon, that indicated his sense of the tediousness of the 
other’s remarks ; while Miss Peyton, with a slight hesitation, 
as if fearful of touching on forbidden subjects, replied — 3 ° 

251 


252 


THE SPY 


“I had thought, sir, that we were indebted to the Christian 
religion for our morals on this subject.” 

“True, madam, it is somewhere provided in the prescrip- 
tions of the apostles, that the sexes should henceforth be 
5 on an equality in this particular. But in what degree could 
polygamy affect holiness of life? It was probably a wise 
arrangement of Paul, who was much of a scholar, and prob- 
ably had frequent conferences, on this important subject, 
with Luke, whom we all know to have been bred to the 
lo practice of medicine — ” 

There is no telling how far the discursive fancy of Sit- 
greaves might have led him, on this subject, had he not been 
interrupted. But Lawton, who had been a close though 
silent observer of all that passed, profited by the hint to 
1 5 ask abruptly — 

“Pray, Colonel Wellmere, in what manner is bigamy 
punished in England?” 

The bridegroom started, and his lip blanched. Recover- 
ing himself, however, on the instant, he answered with a 
20 suavity that became so happy a man, — 

“Death! — as such an offence merits,” he said. 

“Death and dissection,” continued the operator: “it 
is seldom that the law loses sight of eventual utility in a 
malefactor. Bigamy, in a man, is a heinous offence!” 

25 “More so than celibacy?” asked Lawton. 

“More so,” returned the surgeon, with undisturbed sim- 
plicity: “he who remains in a single state may devote his 
life to science and the extension of knowledge, if not of his 
species; but the wretch who profits by the constitutional 
30 tendency of the female sex to credulity and tenderness, 
incurs the wickedness of a positive sin, heightened by the 
baseness of deception.” 

“Really, sir, the ladies are infinitely obliged to you, for 
attributing folly to them as part of their nature.” 

35 “Captain Lawton, in man the animal is more nobly 
formed than in woman. The nerves are endowed with less 
sensibility; the whole frame is less pliable and yielding; 
is it, therefore, surprising, that a tendency to rely on the 
faith of her partner is more natural to woman than to the 
40 other sex? ” 

Wellmere, as if unable to listen with any degree of patience 


THE SPY 


253 


to so ill-timed a dialogue, sprang from his seat and paced the 
floor in disorder. Pitying his situation, the reverend gentle- 
man, who was patiently awaiting the return of Csesar, 

I changed the discourse, and a few minutes brought the black 
1 himself. The billet was handed to Dr. Sitgreaves ; for Miss 5 
Peyton had expressly enjoined Csesar not to implicate her, 
in any manner, in the errand on which he was despatched. 

1 The note contained a summary statement of the several 
subjects of the surgeon’s directions, and referred him to the 
black for the ring. The latter was instantly demanded, lo 
and promptly delivered. A transient look of melancholy 
I crowded the brow of the surgeon, as he stood a moment, 
and gazed silently on the bauble; nor did he remember 
the place, or the occasion, while he soliloquised as follows : — 
“Poor Anna! gay as innocence and youth could make 15 
thee was thy heart, when this cincture was formed to grace 
thy nuptials ; but ere the hour had come, God had taken thee 
to himself. Years have passed, my sister, but never have 
I forgotten the companion of my infancy!” He advanced 
to Sarah, and, unconscious of observation, placing the ring 20 
on her finger, continued — “She for whom it was intended 
has long been in her grave, and the youth who bestowed the 
gift soon followed her sainted spirit: take it, madam, and 
God grant that it may be an instrument in making you as 
! happy as you deserve !” 25 

Sarah felt a chill at her heart, as this burst of feeling es- 
f caped the surgeon ; but Wellmere offering his hand, she 
' was led before the divine, and the ceremony began. The 
1 first words of this imposing office produced a dead stillness 
! in the apartment; and the minister of God proceeded to the 30 
I solemn exhortation, and witnessed the plighted troth of the 
: parties, when the investiture was to follow. The ring had 
been left, from inadvertency, and the agitation of the mo- 
ment, on the finger where Sitgreaves had placed it : — the 
slight interruption occasioned by the circumstance was over, 35 
and the clergyman was about to proceed, when a figure 
gliding into the midst of the party, at once put a stop to the 
ceremony. It was the pedler. His look was bitter and 
ironical, while a finger, raised towards the divine, seemed 
to forbid the ceremony to go any farther. 40 

“Can Colonel Wellmere waste the precious moments here, 


254 


THE SPY 


when his wife has crossed the ocean to meet him? The 
nights are long, and the moon bright; — a few hours will 
take him to the city.” 

Aghast at the suddenness of this extraordinary address, 

5 Wellmere for a moment lost the command of his faculties. 
To Sarah, the countenance of Birch, expressive as it was, 
produced no terror; but the instant she recovered from 
the surprise of his interruption, she turned her anxious 
gaze on the features of the man to whom she had just pledged 
loher troth. They afforded the most terrible confirmation 
of all that the pedler affirmed; the room whirled round, 
and she fell lifeless into the arms of her aunt. There is an 
instinctive delicacy in woman, that seems to conquer all 
other emotions; and the insensible bride was immediately 
15 conveyed from sight, leaving the room to the sole possession 
of the other sex. 

The confusion enabled the pedler to retreat with a rapidity 
that would have baffled pursuit, had any been attempted, 
and Wellmere stood with every eye fixed on him, in ominous 
20 silence. 

^Tis false — Tis false as hell!” he cried, striking his 
forehead. ‘‘I have ever denied her claim; nor will the 
laws of my country compel me to acknowledge it.” 

‘‘But what will conscience and the laws of God do?” 
25 asked Lawton. 

“ 'Tis well, sir,” said Wellmere, haughtily, and retreating 
towards the door — ‘'my situation protects you now; but i 
a time may come — ” 

He had reached the entry, when a slight tap on his 1 
30 shoulder caused him to turn his head; — it was Captain i 
Lawton, who, with a smile of peculiar meaning, beckoned I 
him to follow. The state of Wellmere’s mind was such, j 
that he would gladly have gone anywhere to avoid the gaze ! 
of horror and detestation that glared from every eye he met. j 
35 They reached the stables before the trooper spoke, when 1 
he cried aloud — [ 

“Bring out Roanoke!” j 

His man appeared with the steed caparisoned for its | 
master. Lawton, coolly throwing the bridle on the neck of 
40 the animal, took his pistols from the holsters, and continued 
— “Here are weapons that have seen good service before i 


THE SPY 


255 


; to-day — ay, and in honourable hands, sir. These were the 
pistols of my father. Colonel Wellmere; he used them with 
credit in the wars with France, and gave them to me to 
fight the battles of my country with. In what better way 
can I serve her than in exterminating a wretch who would 5 
have blasted one of her fairest daughters ? ” 

“This injurious treatment shall meet with its reward,’’ 
cried the other, seizing the offered weapon; “the blood lie 
f on the head of him who sought it !” 

“Amen! but hold a moment, sir. You are now free, 10 
i and the passports of Washington are in your pocket; I 
give you the fire; if I fall, there is a steed that will outstrip 
i pursuit; and I would advise you to retreat without much 
I delay, for even Archibald Sitgreaves would fight in such a 
( cause — nor will the guard above be very apt to give 15 
i quarter.” 

“Are you ready?” asked Wellmere, gnashing his teeth 
i with rage. 

“Stand forward, Tom, with the lights; — fire!” 

Wellmere fired, and the bullion flew from the epaulette® 20 
of the trooper. 

“Now the turn is mine,” said Lawton, deliberately 
i levelling his pistol. 

' “And mine !” shouted a voice, as the weapon was struck 
I from his hand. “By all the devils in hell, ’tis the mad 25 
i Virginian ! — fall on, my boys, and take him; this is a prize 
not hoped for !” 

I Unarmed, and surprised as he was, Lawton’s presence of 
hmind did not desert him; he felt that he was in the hands of 
' those from whom he was to expect no mercy ; and, as four 30 
•of the Skinners fell upon him at once, he used his gigantic 
istrength to the utmost. Three of the band grasped him 
by the neck and arms, with an intent to clog his efforts, 
iand pinion him with ropes. The first of these he threw 
from him, with a violence that sent him against the building, 35 
liwhere he lay stunned with the blow. But the fourth seized 
his legs ; and, unable to contend with such odds, the trooper 
came to the earth, bringing with him all of his assailants. 
The struggle on the ground was short but terrific ; — curses 
and the most dreadful imprecations were uttered by the 40 
pkinners, who in vain called on more of their baud, who 

1 


256 


THE SPY 


were gazing on the combat in nerveless horror, to assist. 
A difficulty of breathing, from one of the combatants, was 
heard, accompanied by the stifled meanings of a strangled 
man; and directly one of the group arose on his feet, 
5 shaking himself free from the wild grasp of the others. 
Both Wellmere and the servant of Lawton had fled; the 
former to the stables, and the latter to give the alarm, 
leaving all in darkness. The figure that stood erect sprang 
into the saddle of the unheeded charger; sparks of fire, 
10 issuing from the armed feet of the horse, gave a momentary 
light by which the captain was seen dashing like the wind 
towards the highway. 

“By hell he’s off !” cried the leader, hoarse with rage and 
exhaustion; “fire! — bring him down — fire, or you’ll be 
15 too late.” 

The order was obeyed, and one moment of suspense fol- 
lowed, in the vain hope of hearing the huge frame of Lawton 
tumbling from his steed. 

“He would not fall if you had killed him,” muttered one; 
20 “I’ve known these Virginians sit their horses with two or 
three balls through them; ay, even after they were dead.” 

A freshening of the wind waHed the tread of a horse down 
the valley, which, by its speed, gave assurance of a rider 
governing its motion. 

25 “These trained horses always stop when the rider falls,” 
observed one of the gang. 

“Then,” cried the leader, striking his musket on the 
ground in a rage, “the fellow is safe 1 — to your business at 
once. A short half-hour will bring down that canting Ser- 
30 geant and the guard upon us. ’Twill be lucky if the guns 
don’t turn them out. Quick, to your posts, and fire the 
house in the chambers; smoking ruins are good to cover 
evil deeds.” 

“What is to be done with this lump of earth?” cried 
35 another, pushing the body that yet lay insensible, where it 
had been hurled by the arm of Lawton; “a little rubbing 
would bring him to.” 

“Let him lie,” said the leader, fiercely; “had he been 
half a man, that dragooning rascal would have been in my 
40 power; — enter the house, I say, and fire the chambers. 
We can’t go amiss here; — there is plate and money 
enough to make you all gentlemen — and revenge too.” 


THE SPY 


257 


The idea of silver in any way was not to be resisted ; and, 
leaving their companion, who began to show faint signs of 
life, they rushed tumultuously towards the dwelling. Well- 
mere availed himself of the opportunity, and, stealing from 
the stable with his own charger, he was able to gain the 5 
highway unnoticed. For an instant he hesitated, whether 
to ride towards the point where he knew the guard was 
stationed, and endeavour to rescue the family, or, profiting 
by his liberty, and the exchange that had been effected by 
the divine, to seek the royal army. Shame, and a con- 10 
sciousness of guilt, determined him to take the latter course, 
and he rode towards New York, stung with the reflection 
of his own baseness, and harassed with the apprehension of 
meeting with an enraged woman, that he had married 
during his late visit to England, but whose claims, as soon 15 
as his passion was sated, he had resolved never willingly 
to admit. In the tumult and agitation of the moment, the 
retreat of Lawton and Wellmere was but little noticed; the 
condition of Mr. Wharton demanding the care and conso- 
lation of both the surgeon and the divine. The report of 20 
the fire-arms first roused the family to the sense of a new 
danger, and but a moment elapsed before the leader, and 
one morQ of the gang, entered the room. 

“Surrender! you servants of King George,” shouted the 
leader, presenting his musket to the breast of Sitgreaves, 25 
“ or I will let a little Tory blood from your veins.” 

“Gently — gentlj’’, mj’- friend,” said the surgeon; “you 
are doubtless more expert in inflicting wounds than in 
healing them; the weapon that you hold so indiscreetly is 
extremely dangerous to animal life.” 3° 

“Yield, or take its contents.” 

“ Why and wherefore should I yield ? — I am a non- 
combatant. The articles of capitulation must be ar- 
ranged with Captain John Lawton; though yielding, I 
believe, is not a subject on which you will find him par- 35 
ticularly complying.” 

The fellow had by this time taken such a survey of the 
group, as convinced him that little danger was to be appre- 
hended from resistance, and, eager to seize his share of the 
plunder, he dropped his musket, and was soon busy, with 40 
the assistance of his men, in arranging divers articles of 
s 


258 


THE SPY 


plate in bags. The cottage now presented a singular 
spectacle ; — the ladies were gathered around Sarah, who 
yet continued insensible, in one of the rooms that had 
escaped the notice of the marauders. Mr. Wharton sat in 
5 a state of perfect imbecility, listening to, but not profiting 
by, the unmeaning words of comfort that fell from the lips 
of the clergyman. Singleton was lying on a sofa, shaking 
with debility, and inattentive to surrounding objects; while 
the surgeon was administering restoratives, and looking at 
lo the dressings, with a coolness that mocked the tumult. 
CjEsar, and the attendant of Captain Singleton, had re- 
treated to the wood in the rear of the cottage, and Katy 
Haynes was flying about the building, busily employed in 
forming a bundle of valuables, from which, with the most 
15 scrupulous honesty, she rejected every article that was not 
really and truly her own. 

But to return to the party at the Four Corners. When 
the veteran had got his men mounted and under arms, a 
restless desire to participate in the glory and dangers of 
20 the expedition came over the washerwoman. Whether she 
was impelled to the undertaking by a dread of remaining 
alone, or a wish to hasten in person to the relief of her 
favourite, we will not venture to assert; but, as Hollister 
was giving the orders to wheel and march, the voice of Betty 
25 was heard, exclaiming — 

“Stop a bit, Sargeant dear, till two of the boys git out 
the cart, and Fll jist ride wid yee; Tis like there’ll be 
wounded, and it will be mighty convanient to bring them 
home in.” 

36 Although inwardly much pleased, with any cause of 
delay, to a service that he so little relished, Hollister affected 
some displeasure at the detention. 

“Nothing but a cannon-ball can take one of my lads 
from his charger,” he said; “and it’s not very likely that 
35 we shall have as fair fighting as cannon and musketry, in 
a business of the evil one’s inventing; so, Elizabeth, you 
may go if you will, but the cart will not be wanting.” 

“Now, Sargeant dear, you lie, any way,” said Betty, 
who was somewhat unduly governed by her potations; 
40 “and wasn’t Captain Singleton shot off his horse but tin 
days gone by? ay, and Captain Jack himself too ; and didn’t 


THE SPY 


259 


he lie on the ground, face uppermost, and back downwards, 
looking grim? and didn’t the boys tink him dead, and 
turn and lave the rig’lars the day?” 

“You lie back again,” cried the Sergeant, fiercely: “and 
so does any one who says that we didn’t gain the day.” 5 

“ For a bit or so — only I mane for a bit or so,” said the 
washerwoman; “but Major Dunwoodie turned you, and 
so you licked the rig’lars. But the Captain it was that fell, 
and I’m thinking that there’s no better rider going; so, 
Sargeant, it’s the cart will be convanient. Here, two of 10 
you, jist hitch the mare to the tills, and it’s no whiskey 
that yee’ll be wanting the morrow; and put the piece of 
Jenny’s hide under the pad; the baste is never the better 
for the rough ways of the county West-Chester.” The 
consent of the Sergeant being obtained, the equipage of 15 
Mrs. Flanagan was soon in readiness to receive its burthen. 

“ As it is quite uncertain whether we shall be attacked in 
front, or in rear,” said Hollister, “five of you shall march 
in advance, and the remainder shall cover our retreat 
towards the barrack, should we be pressed. ’Tis an awful 20 
moment to a inan of little learning, Elizabeth, to command 
in such a service; for my part, I wish devoutly that one 
of the officers were here; but my trust is in the Lord.” 

“ Pooh ! man, away wid yee,” said the washerwoman, 
who had got herself comfortably seated; “the divil a bit 25 
of an inimy is there near. March on, hurry-skurry, and 
let the mare trot, or it’s but little that Captain Jack will 
thank yee for the help.” 

“ Although unlearned in matters of communicating with 
spirits, or laying the dead, Mrs. Flanagan,” said the veteran, 30 
“ I have not served through the old war, and five years in 
this, not to know how to guard the baggage. Doesn’t 
Washington always cover the baggage? I am not to be 
told my duty by a camp follower. Fall in as you are 
ordered, 'and dress, men.” 35 

“ Well, march, any way,” cried the impatient washer- 
woman; “ the black is there already, and it’s tardy the 
Captain will think yee.” 

“ Are you sure that it was really a black man that brought 
the order?” said the Sergeant, dropping in between the 40 
platoons, where he could converse with Betty, and be at 


260 


THE SPY 


hand, to lead on an emergency, either on an advance or 
on a retreat. 

‘‘ Nay — and Tm sure of nothing, dear. But why don’t 
the boys prick their horses and jog a trot? the mare is 
5 mighty unasy, and it’s no warm in this cursed valley, 
riding as much like a funeral party as old rags is to con- 
tinental.” ° 

“Fairly and softly, ay, and prudently, Mrs. Flanagan; 
it’s not rashness that makes the good officer. If we have 
lo to encounter a spirit, it’s more than likely he’ll make his 
attack by surprise; horses are not very powerful in the 
dark, and I have a character to lose, good woman.” 

“ Caractur ! and isn’t it caractur and life too that Captain 
Jack has to lose?” 

15 “Halt!” cried the Sergeant; “what is that lurking near 
the foot of the rock, on the left?” 

“ Sure, it’s nothing, unless it be matter of Captain Jack’s 
sowl that’s come to haunt yee, for not being brisker on the 
march.” 

20 “Betty, your levity makes you an unfit comrade for 
such an expedition. Advance, one of you, and reconnoitre 
the spot; — draw swords ! — rear rank, close to the front I” 

“ Pshaw !” shouted Betty, “ is it a big fool or a big coward 
that yee are? jist wheel from the road, boys, and I’ll shove 
25 the mare down upon it in the twinkling of an eye — and 
it’s no ghost that I fear.” 

By this time one of the men had returned, and declared 
there was nothing to prevent their advancing, and the 
party continued their march, but with great deliberation 
30 and caution. 

“Courage and prudence are the jewels of a soldier, Mrs. 
Flanagan,” said the Sergeant: “without the one, the other 
may be said to be good for nothing.” 

“ Prudence without courage: is it that you mane? — and 
35 it’s so that I’m thinking myself, Sargeant. This baste pulls 
tight on the reins any way.” 

“Be patient, good woman; — hark! what is that?” 
said Hollister, pricking up his ears at the report of Well- 
mere’s pistol; “ I’ll swear that was a human pistol, and one 
40 from our regiment. — Rear rank, close to the front ! — Mrs. 
Flanagan, I must leave you.” So saying, having recov- 


THt: SPY 


261 


ered all his faculties, by hearing a sound that he understood, 
he placed himself at the head of his men with an air of mili- 
tary pride, that the darkness prevented the washerwoman 
from beholding. A volley of musketry now rattled in the 
night wind, and the Sergeant exclaimed — 5 

March ! — quick time \ ” 

The next instant the trampling of a horse was heard 
coming up the road, at a rate that announced a matter of 
life or death; and Hollister again halted his party, riding 
a short distance in front himself, to meet the rider. lo 

“ Stand ! —^_who goes there?” shouted Hollister. 

‘‘Ha! Hollister, is it you?” cried Lawton, “ever ready, 
and at your post; but where is the guard?” 

“ At hand, sir, and ready to follow you through thick 
and thin,” said the veteran, relieved at once from respon-«»i5 v 
sibility, and as eager as a boy to be led against his enemy. 

“ ’Tis well 1” said the trooper, riding up to his men; then, 
speaking a few words of encouragement, he led them down 
the valley at a rate but little less rapid than his approach. 

The miserable horse of the sutler was soon distanced, and 20 
Betty, thus thrown out in the chase, turned to the side of 
the road, and observed — 

“ There — it’s no difficult to tell that Captain Jack is wid 
’em, any way; and away they go like so many nagur boys 
to a husking-frolic ; — well. I’ll jist hitch the mare to this 25 
bit of a fence, and walk down and see the sport afoot — it’s 
no rasonable to expose the baste to be hurted.” 

Led on by Lawton, the men followed, destitute alike of 
fear and reflection. Whether it was a party of the refugees, 
or a detachment from the royal army, that they were to 30 
assail, they were profoundly ignorant; but they knew that 
the officer in advance was distinguished for courage and 
personal prowess; and these are virtues that are sure to 
captivate the thoughtless soldiery. On arriving near the 
gates of the Locusts, the trooper halted his party, and made 35 
his arrangements for the assault. Dismounting, he ordered 
eight of his men to follow his example, and turning to 
Hollister, said — 

“Stand you here, and guard the horses; if any thing 
attempt to pass, stop it, or cut it down, and — ” The 40 
flames at this moment burst through the dormer-windows 


262 


THE SPY 


and cedar roof of the cottage, and a bright light glared on 
the darkness of the night. “On!” shouted the trooper, 
“ on ! — give quarter when you have done Justice 1 ” 

There was a startlin’g fierceness in the voice of the trooper 
5 that reached to the heart, even amid the horrors of the 
cottage. The leader of the Skinners dropped his plunder, 
and, for a moment, he stood in nerveless dread ; then rush- 
ing to a window, he threw up the sash ; — at this instant 
Lawton entered, sabre in hand, into the apartment, 
lo “ Die, miscreant !” cried the trooper, cleaving a marauder 
to the Jaw: but the leader sprang into the lawn, and 
escaped his vengeance. The shrieks of the females restored 
Lawton to his presence of mind, and the earnest entreaty 
of the divine induced him to attend to the safety of the 
15 iamily. One more of the gang fell in with the dragoons, 
and met his death; but the remainder had taken the 
alarm in season. Occupied with Sarah, neither Miss 
Singleton, nor the ladies of the house, had discovered the 
entrance of the Skinners, though the flames were raging 
20 around them with a fury that threatened the building with 
rapid destruction. The shrieks of Katy and the terrified 
consort of CiEsar, together with the noise and uproar in the 
adjacent apartment, first roused Miss Peyton and Isabella 
to a sense of their danger. 

25 “Merciful Providence!” exclaimed the alarmed aunt; 
“ there is a dreadful confusion in the house, and there will 
be bloodshed in consequence of this affair.” 

“There are none to fight,” returned Isabella, with a face 
paler than that of the other; “ Dr. Sitgreaves is very peace- 
30 able in his disposition, and surely Captain Lawton would 
not forget himself so far.” 

“The southern temper is quick and fiery,” continued 
Miss Peyton; “ and your brother, feeble and weak as he is, 
has looked the whole afternoon flushed and angry.” 

35 “Good Heaven!” cried Isabella, with difficulty support- 
ing herself on the couch of Sarah; “he is gentle as the 
lamb by nature, though the lion is not his equal when 
roused.” 

“We must interfere: our presence will quell the tumult, 
40 and possibly save the life of a fellow-creature.” 

Miss Peyton, excited to attempt what she conceived a 


THE SPY 


263 


duty worthy of her sex and nature, advanced with the 
dignity of injured female feeling, to the door, followed by 
Isabella. The apartment to which Sarah had been con- 
veyed was in one of the wings of the building, and it com- 
municated with the principal hall of the cottage by a long s 
and dark passage. This was now light, and across its termi- 
nation several figures were seen rushing with an impetuosity 
that prevented an examination of their employment. 

“ Let us advance,” said Miss Peyton, with a firmness her 
face belied: “ they must respect our sex.” lo 

“ They shall,” cried Isabella, taking the lead in the enter- 
prise. Frances was left alone with her sister. A few 
minutes were passed in silence; when a loud crash, in the 
upper apartments, was succeeded by a bright light that 
glared through the open door, and made objects as distinct 15 
to the eye as if they were placed under a noon-day sun. 
Sarah raised herself on her bed, and staring wildly around, 
pressed both her hands on her forehead, endeavouring to 
recollect herself — 

“ This, then, is heaven — and you are one of its bright 20 
spirits. Oh ! how glorious is its radiance ! I had thought 
the happiness I have lately experienced was too much for 
earth. But we shall meet again — yes — yes — we shall 
meet again.” 

“Sarah! Sarah!” cried Frances, in terror; “my sister 25 
— my only sister — Oh ! do not smile so horridly : know 
me, or you will break my heart.” 

“Hush,” said Sarah, raising her hand for silence; “you 
may disturb his rest — surely, he will follow me to the 
grave. Think you there can be two wives in the grave ? 3° 
No — no — no — one — one — one — only one.” ^ 

Frances dropped her head into the lap of her sister, and 
wept in agony. 

“Do you shed tears, sweet angel?” continued Sarah, 
soothingly; “ then heaven is not exempt from grief. But 35 
where is Henry? He was executed, and he must be here 
too; perhaps they will come together. Oh, how Joyful will 
be the meeting ! ” 

Frances sprang on her feet, and paced the apartment. 
The eye of Sarah followed her in childish admiration of her 40 
beauty. 


264 


THE SPY 


“You look like my sister; but all good and lovely spirits 
are alike. Tell me, were you ever married? Did you 
ever let a stranger steal your affections from father, and 
brother, and sister? If not, poor wretch, I pity you, 

5 although you may be in heaven.^’ 

“Sarah — peace, peace — I implore you to be silent,’’ 
shrieked Frances, rushing to her bed, “ or you will kill me 
• at your feet.” 

Another dreadful crash shook the building to its centre, 
lo It was the falling of the roof, and the flames threw their 
light abroad, so as to make objects visible around the cot- 
tage, through the windows of the room. Frances flew to 
one of them, and saw the confused group that was collected 
on the lawn. Among them were her aunt and Isabella, 
15 pointing with distraction to the fiery edifice, and apparently 
urging the dragoons to enter it. For the first time she 
comprehended their danger; and uttering a wild shriek, 
she flew through the passage without consideration, or 
object. 

20 A dense and suffocating column of smoke opposed her 
progress. She paused to breathe, when a man caught her 
in his arms, and bore her, in a state of insensibility, through 
the falling embers and darkness, to the open air. The instant 
that Frances recovered her recollection, she perceived that 
25 she owed her life to Lawton, and throwing herself on her 
knees, she cried — 

“Sarah! Sarah! Sarah! save my sister, and may the 
blessing of God await you !” 

Her strength failed, and she sunk on the grass, in insen- 
30 sibility. The trooper pointed to her figure, motioned to 
Katy for assistance, and advanced once more to the building. 
The fire had already communicated to the wood-work of the 
piazzas and windows, and the whole exterior of the cottage 
was covered with smoke. The only entrance was through 
35 these dangers, and even the hardy and impetuous Lawton ■ 
paused to consider. It was for a moment only, when he 
dashed into the heat and darkness, where, missing the 
entrance, he wandered for a minute, and precipitated him- 
self back, again, upon the lawn. Drawing a single breath 
40 of pure air, he renewed the effort, and was again unsuccess- 
ful. On a third trial, he met a man staggering under the 


THE SPY 


265 


load of a human body. It was neither the place, nor was 
there time, to question, or to make distinctions; seizing 
both in his arms, with gigantic strength, he bore them 
through the smoke. He soon perceived, to his astonish- 
ment, that it was the surgeon, and the body of one of the s 
Skinners, that he had saved. 

“ Archibald V’ he exclaimed, “ why, in the name of justice, 
did you bring this miscreant to light again ? His deeds are 
rank to heaven 

The surgeon, who had been in imminent peril, was too lo 
much bewildered to reply instantly, but wiping the moisture 
from his forehead, and clearing his lungs from the vapour 
he had inhaled, he said piteously — 

“ Ah I it is all over ! Had I been in time to have stopped 
the effusion from the jugular, he might have been saved; ^5 
but the heat was conducive to hemorrhage; life is extinct 
indeed. Well, are there any more wounded?’' 

His question was put to the air, for Frances had been 
removed to the opposite side of the building, where her 
friends were collected, and Lawton once more had dis- 20 
appeared in the smoke. 

By this time the flames had dispersed much of the 
suffocating vapour, so that the trooper was able to And 
the door, and in its very entrance he was met by a man 
supporting the insensible Sarah. There was but barely 25 
time to reach the lawn again, before the Are broke through 
the windows, and wrapped the whole building in a sheet of 
flame. 

“God be praised!” ejaculated the preserver of Sarah; 
“it would have been a dreadful death to die.” 3° 

The trooper turned from gazing at the edifice, to the 
speaker, and to his astonishment, instead of one of his own 
men, he beheld the pedler. 

“Ha! the spy,” he exclaimed: “by heavens, you cross 
me like a spectre.” 35 

“Captain Lawton,” said Birch, leaning in momentary 
exhaustion against the fence, to which they had retired 
from the heat, “ I am again in your power, for I can neither 
flee, nor resist.” 

“The cause of America is dear to me as life,” said the 40 
trooper; “but she cannot require her children to forget 


266 


THE SPY 


gratitude and honour. Fly, unhappy man, while yet you 
are unseen, or it will exceed my power to save you.’' 

May God prosper you, and make you victorious over 
your enemies,” said Birch, grasping the hand of the dragoon 
5 with an iron strength that his meagre figure did not indicate. 

“ Hold ! ” said Lawton ; “but a word — are you what you 
seem ? — can you — are you — ” 

“ A royal spy,” interrupted Birch, averting his face, and 
endeavouring to release his hand, 
lo “Then go, miserable wretch,” said the trooper, relin- 
quishing his grasp; “either avarice or delusion has led a 
noble heart astray!” 

The bright light from the flames reached a great distance 
around the ruins, but the words were hardly past the lips 
15 of Lawton, before the gaunt form of the pedler had glided 
over the visible space, and plunged into the darkness 
beyond. 

The eye of Lawton rested for a moment on the spot where 
he had last seen this inexplicable man, and then turning to 
20 the yet insensible Sarah, he lifted her in his arms, and bore 
her, like a sleeping infant, to the care of her friends. 


CHAPTER XXIII 


And now her charms are fading fast, 

Her spirits now no more are gay ; 

Alas ! that beauty cannot last ! 

That flowers so sweet so soon decay ! 

How sad appears 
The vale of years, 

How changed from youth’s too flattering scene! 

Where are her fond admirers gone? 

Alas ! and shall there then be none 
On -vvhom her soul may lean ? 

Cynthia’s Grave, 

The walls of the cottage were all that was left of the 
building; and these, blackened by smoke, and stripped of 
their piazzas and ornaments, were but dreary memorials 
of the content and security that had so lately reigned within. 
The roof, together with the rest of the woodwork, had 5 
tumbled into the cellars, and a pale and flitting light, 
ascending from their embers, shone faintly through the 
windows. The early flight of the Skinners left the dragoons 
at liberty to exert themselves in saving much of the furni- 
ture, which lay scattered in heaps on the lawn, giving the lo 
finishing touch of desolation to the scene. Whenever a 
stronger ray of light than common shot upwards, the com- 
posed figures of Sergeant Hollister and his associates, sitting 
on their horses in rigid discipline, were to be seen in the 
'background of the picture, together with the beast of Mrs. 15 
Flanagan, which, having slipped its bridle, was quietly 
grazing by the highway. Betty herself had advanced to 
the spot where the Sergeant was posted, and, with an in- 
credible degree of composure, witnessed the whole of the 
events as they occurred. More than once she suggested to 20 
her companion, that, as the fighting seemed to be over, the 
proper time for plunder had arrived; but the veteran 
acquainted her with his orders, and remained both inflex- 
ible and immoveable; until the washerwoman, observing 

2G7 


268 


THE SPY 


Lawton come round the wing of the building with Sarah, 
ventured amongst the warriors. The Captain, after plac- 
ing Sarah on a sofa that had been hurled from the building 
by two of his men, retired, that the ladies might succeed 
5 him in his care. Miss Peyton and her niece flew, with a 
rapture that was blessed with a momentary forgetfulness 
of all but her preservation, to receive Sarah from the 
trooper; but the vacant eye, and flushed cheek, restored 
them instantly to their recollection, 
lo ‘‘ Sarah, my child, my beloved niece,’’ said the former, 
folding the unconscious bride in her arms, “you are saved, 
and may the blessing of God await him who has been the 
instrument.” 

“See,” said Sarah, gently pushing her aunt aside, and 
1 5 pointing to the glimmering ruins, “the windows are illumi- 
nated in honour of my arrival. They always receive a 
bride thus — he told me they would do no less ; listen, and 
you will hear the bells.” 

“Here is no bride, no rejoicing, nothing but wo!” cried 
20 Frances, in a manner but little less frantic than that of her 
sister ; “ Oh I may Heaven restore you to us — to yourself ! ” 

“ Peace, foolish young woman,” said Sarah, with a smile 
of affected pity; “ all cannot be happy at the same moment; 
perhaps you have no brother, or husband, to console you; 
25 you look beautiful, and you will yet find one; but,” she 
continued, dropping her voice to a whisper, “see that he 
has no other wife — ’tis dreadful to think what might 
happen, should he be twice married.” 

“The shock has destroyed her mind,” cried Miss Peyton: 
30 “my child, my beauteous Sarah is a maniac !” 

“No, no, no,” cried Frances, “it is fever; she is light- 
headed — she must recover — she shall recover.” 

The aunt caught joyfully at the hope conveyed in this 
suggestion, and despatched Katy to request the immediate 
35 aid and advice of Dr. Sitgreaves. The surgeon was found 
enquiring among the men for professional employment, 
and inquisitively e.vamining every bruise and scratch that 
he could induce the sturdy warriors to acknowledge they 
had received. A summons, of the sort conveyed by Katy, 
40 was instantly obeyed, and not a minute elapsed before he 
was by the side of Miss Peyton. 


THE SPY 


269 


“This is a melancholy termination to so joyful a com- 
mencement of the ‘night, madam,’’ he observed, in a sooth- 
ing manner; “but war must bring its attendant miseries; 
though doubtless it often supports the cause of liberty, and 
improves the knowledge of surgical science.” 5 

Miss Peyton could make no reply, but pointed to her 
niece, in agony. 

“ ’Tis fever,” answered Frances; “see how glassy is her 
eye, and look at her cheek, how flushed.” 

The surgeon stood for a moment, deeply studying the 10 
outward symptoms of his patient, and then he silently took 
her hand in his own. It was seldom that the hard and 
abstracted features of Sitgreaves discovered any violent 
emotion; all his passions seemed schooled, and his counte- 
nance did not often betray what, indeed, his heart fre- 15 
quently felt. In the present instance, however, the eager 
gaze of the aunt and sister quickly detected his emotions. 
After laying his fingers for a minute on the beautiful arm, 
which, bared to the elbow, and glittering with jewels, Sarah 
suffered him to retain, he dropped it, and dashing a hand 20 
over his eyes, turned sorrowfully away. 

“ Here is no fever to excite — ’tis a case, my dear madam, 
for time and care only; these, with the blessing of God, 
miay effect a cure.” 

“And where is the wretch who has caused this ruin?” 25 
exclaimed Singleton, rejecting the support of his man, and 
making an effort to rise from the chair, to which he had 
been driven by debility. “ It is in vain that we overcome 
our enemies, if, conquered, they can inflict such wounds 
as this.” 3 ° 

“ Dost think, foolish boy,” said Lawton, with a bitter 
smile, “that hearts can feel in a colony? What is America 
but a satellite of England ° — to move as she moves, follow 
where she wists, and shine, that the mother country may 
become more splendid by her radiance? Surely you forget 35 
that it is honour enough for a colonist to receive ruin from 
the hand of a child of Britain.” 

“ I forget not that I wear a sword,” said Singleton, falling 
back exhausted; “but was there no willing arm ready to 
avenge that lovely sufferer — to appease the wrongs of 40 
this hoary father?” 


270 


THE SPY 


“Neither arms, nor hearts are wanting, sir, in such a 
cause;” bustling up to his side; “but chance oftentimes 
helps the wicked. By heavens, Fd give Roanoke himself, 
for a clear field with the miscreant!” 

5 “Nay! Captain dear, no be parting with the horse, 
any way,” said Betty; “it is no trifle that can be had by 
jist asking of the right person, if yee’re in need of silver, 
and the baste is sure of foot, and jumps like a squirrel.” 

“ Woman, fifty horses, ay, the best that were ever reared 
lo on the banks of the Potomac, would be but a paltry price, 
for one blow at a villain.” 

“ Come,” said the surgeon, “ the night air can do no 
service to George, or these ladies, and it is incumbent on 
us to remove them where they can find surgical attendance 
15 and refreshment. Here is nothing but smoking ruins and 
the miasma of the swamps.” 

To this rational proposition no objection could be raised, 
and the necessary orders were issued by Lawton to remove 
the whole party to the Four Corners. 

20 America furnished but few and very indifferent carriage- 
makers at the period of which we write, and every vehicle, 
that in the least aspired to that dignity, was the manufac- 
ture of a London mechanic. When Mr. Wharton left the 
city, he was one of the very few who maintained the state 
25 of a carriage; and, at the time Miss Peyton and his daugh- 
ters joined him in his retirement, they had been conveyed 
to the cottage in the heavy chariot that had once so im- 
posingly rolled through the windings of Queen Street, or 
emerged, with sombre dignity, into the more spacious 
30 drive of Broadway. This vehicle stood, undisturbed, 
where it had been placed on its arrival, and the age of the 
horses alone had protected the favourites of Caesar from 
sequestration by the contending forces in their neighbour- 
hood. With a heavy heart, the black, assisted by a few of 
35 the dragoons, proceeded to prepare it for the reception of 
the ladies. It was a cumbrous vehicle, whose faded linings 
and tarnished hammercloth,° together with its panels of 
changing colour, denoted the want of that art which had 
once given it lustre and beauty. The “lion couchant”° 
40 of the Wharton arms was reposing on the reviving splendour 
of a blazonry that told the armorial bearings of a prince of 


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271 


the church; and the mitre, that already began to shine 
through its American mask, was a symbol of the rank of its 
original owner. The chaise which conveyed Miss Singleton 
was also safe, for the stable and outbuildings had entirely 
escaped the flames: it certainly had been no part of the 5 
plan of the marauders to leave so well-appointed a stud 
behind them, but the suddenness of the attack by Lawton, 
not only disconcerted their arrangements on this point, but 
on many others also. A guard was left on the ground, 
under the command of Hollister, who, having discovered 10 
that his enemy was of mortal mould, took his position with 
admirable coolness, and no little skill, to guard against 
surprise. He drew off his small party to such a distance 
from the ruins, that it was effectually concealed in the 
darkness, while at the same time the light continued suffi- 15 
ciently powerful to discover any one who might approach the 
lawn with an intent to plunder. 

Satisfied with this judicious arrangement. Captain Law- 
ton made his dispositions for the march. Miss Peyton, her 
two nieces, and Isabella, were placed in the chariot, while 20 
the cart of Mrs. Flanagan, amply supplied with blankets 
and a bed, was honoured with the person of Captain Single- 
ton. Dr. Sitgreaves took charge of the chaise and Mr. 
Wharton. What became of the rest of the family, duFing 
that eventful night, is unknown : for CiEsar alone, of the 25 
domestics, *was to be found, if we except the housekeeper. 
Having disposed of the whole party in this manner, Lawton 
gave the word to march. He remained himself, for a few 
minutes, alone, on the lawn, secreting various pieces of 
plate and other valuables, that he was fearful might tempt 3° 
the cupidity of his own men; when, perceiving nothing 
more that he conceived likely to overcome their honesty, he 
threw himself into the saddle with the soldierly intention 
of bringing up the rear. 

“Stop, stop,’’ cried a female voice: “will you leave me 35 
alone to be murdered ? the spoon is melted, I believe, and 
I’ll have compensation, if there’s law or justice in this 
unhappy land.” 

Lawton turned an eye in the direction of the sound, and 
perceived a female emerging from the ruins, loaded with a 40 
bundle, that vied in size with the renowned pack of the pedler. 


272 


THE SPY 


“Who have we here,” said the trooper, “rising like a 
phoenix® from the flames ? Oh ! by the soul of Hippocrates, 
but it is the identical she-doctor, of famous needle reputa- 
tion. Well, good woman, what means this outcry ?” 

5 “Outcry!” echoed Katy, panting for breath; “is it not 
disparagement enough to lose a silver spoon, but I must be 
left alone in this lonesome place, to be robbed, and perhaps 
murdered ? Harvey would not serve me so ; when I lived 
with Harvey, I was always treated with respect, at least, 
lo if he was a little close with his secrets, and wasteful of his 
money.” 

“Then, madam, you once formed part of the household 
of Mr. Harvey Birch?” 

“You may say I was the whole of his household,” re- 
15 turned the other; “there was nobody but I, and he, and 
the old gentleman; you didn’t know the old gentleman, 
perhaps?” 

“That happiness w'as denied me: how long did you live 
in the family of Mr. Birch?” 

20 “I disremember the precise time, but it must have been 
hard on upon nine years: and what better am I for it all ?” 

“Sure enough; i can see but little benefit that you have 
derived from the association, truly. But is there not 
something unusual in the movements and character of this 
25 Mr. Birch?” 

“Unusual is an easy word for such unaccountables !” 
replied Katy, lowering her voice, and looking around her; 
“he was a wonderful disregardful man, and minded a guinea 
no more than I do a kernel of corn. But help me to some 
30 way of Joining Miss Jinitt, and I will tell you prodigies of 
what Harvey has done, first and last.” 

“You will !” exclaimed the trooper, musing; “here, give 
me leave to feel your arm above the elbow. There — you 
are not deficient in bone, let the blood be as it may.” So 
35 saying, he gave the spinster a sudden whirl, that effectually 
confused all her faculties, until she found herself safely, if 
not comfortably, seated on the crupper of Lawton’s steed. 

“Now, madam, you have the consolation of knowing that 
you are as well mounted as Washington. The nag is sure of 
40 foot, and will leap like a panther.” 

“Let me get down/’ cried Katy, struggling to release 


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273 


herself from his iron -grasp, and yet afraid of falling; “this 
is no way to put a woman on a horse; besides, I can’t ride 
without a pillion.” 

“Softly, good madam,” said Lawton, “for although Roa- 
noke never falls before, he sometimes rises behind. He is far 5 
from being accustomed to a pair of heels beating upon his 
flanks like a drum-major on a field day; a single touch of 
the spur will serve him for a fortnight, and it is b^y no means 
wise to be kicking in this manner, for he is a horse that but 
little likes to be outdone.” 10 

“Let me down, I say,” screamed Katy; “I shall fall and 
be killed. Besides, I have nothing to hold on with; my 
arms are full of valuables.” 

“True,” returned the trooper, observing that he had 
brought bundle and all from the ground; “I perceive that 15 
you belong to the baggage-guard; but my sword-belt will 
encircle your little waist, as well as my own.” 

Katy was too much pleased with this compliment to make 
any resistance, while he buckled her close to his own her- 
culean frame, and, driving a spur into his charger, they flew 20 
from the lawn with a rapi^dity that defied further denial. 
After proceeding for some time, at a rate that a good deal 
discomposed the spinster, they overtook the cart of the 
washerwoman driving slowly over the stones, with a proper 
consideration for the wounds of Captain Singleton. The 25 
occurrences of that eventful night had produced an excite- 
ment in the young soldier, that was followed by the ordinary 
lassitude of reaction, and he lay carefully enveloped in 
blankets, and supported by his man, but little able to con- 
verse, though deeply brooding over the past. The dialogue 30 
between Lawton and his companion ceased with the com- 
mencement of their motions, but a foot-pace being more 
favourable to speech, the trooper began anew — 

“ Then, you have been an inmate in the same house with 
Harvey Birch?” 35 

“For more than nine years,” said Katy, drawing her 
breath, and rejoicing greatly that their speed was abated. 

The deep tones of the trooper’s voice were no sooner con- 
veyed to the ears of the washerwoman, than, turning her 
head, where she sat directing the movements of the mare, 40 
she put into the discourse at the first pause — 

T 


274 


THE SPY 


‘‘Belike, then, good woman, yee’r k:nowing whether or 
no he’s akin to Beelzeboob,” said Betty; “it’s Sargeant 
Hollister who’s saying the same, and no fool is the Sargeant, 
any way.” 

5 “It’s a scandalous disparagement,” cried Katy, vehe- 
mently; “ no kinder soul than Harvey carries a pack ; and 
for a gown or a tidy apron, he will never take a king’s 
farthing from a friend. Beelzebub, indeed! For what 
would he read the Bible, if he had dealings with the evil 
lo spirit?” 

“He’s an honest divil, any way; as I was saying before, 
the guinea was pure. But then the Sargeant thinks him 
amiss, and it’s no want of laming that Mister Hollister has.” 

“He’s a fool!” said Katy, tartly; “Harvey might be a 
15 man of substance, were he not so disregardful. How often 
have I told him, that if he did nothing but peddle, and 
would put his gains to use, and get married, so that things 
at home could be kept within doors, and leave off his deal- 
ings with the rig’lars, and all incumberments, that he would 
20 soon become an excellent liver. Sergeant Hollister would 
be glad to hold a candle to him, indeed ! ” 

“ Pooh ! ” said Betty, in her philosophical way; “ yee’r no 
thinking that Mister Hollister is an officer, and stands next 
the cornet, in the troop. But this pidler gave warning of 
25 the brush the night, and it’s no sure that Captain Jack 
would have got the day, but for the reinforcement.” 

“ How say you, Betty,” cried the trooper, bending for- 
ward on his saddle, “had you notice of our danger from 
Birch?” 

30 “The very same, darling; and it’s hurry I was till the 
boys was in motion; not but I knew yee’r enough for the 
Cow-Boys any time. But wid the divil on your side, I was 
sure of the day. I’m only wondering there’s so little 
plunder, in a business of Beelzeboob’s contriving.” 

35 “ I’m obliged to you for the rescue, and equally indebted 

to the motive.” 

“Is it the plunder? But little did I tink of it till I saw 
the moveables on the ground, some burnt, and some broke, 
and other some as good as new. It would be convanient 
40 to have one featherbed in the corps, any way.” 

“By heavens, ’twas timely succour! Had not Roanoke 


THE SPY 


275 


been swifter than their bullets, I must have fallen. The 
animal is worth his weight in gold.’' 

‘‘It’s continental,® you mane, darling. Goold weighs 
heavy, and is no plenty in the states. If the nagur hadn’t 
been staying and frighting the Sargeant with his copper- 5 
coloured looks, and a matter of blarney ’bout ghosts, we 
should have been in time to have killed all the dogs, and 
taken the rest prisoners.” 

“ It is very well as it is, Betty,” said Lawton; “a day will 
yet come, I trust, when these miscreants shall be rewarded, 10 
if not in judgments upon their persons, at least in the 
opinions of their fellow-citizens. The time must arrive 
when America will learn to distinguish between a patriot 
and a robber.” 

“Speak low,” said Katy; “there’s some who think much 15 
of themselves, that have doings with the Skinners.’’ 

“It’s more they are thinking of themselves, then, than 
other people thinks of them,” cried Betty; “a tief’s a tief, 
any way; whether he stales for King George or for Con- 
gress.” 20 

“I know’d that evil would soon happen,” said Katy; 

“ the sun set to-night behind a black cloud, and the house- 
dog whined, although I gave him his supper with my own 
hands; besides, it’s not a week sin’ I dreamed the dream 
about the thousand lighted candles, and the cakes being 25 
burnt in the oven.” 

“Well,” said Betty, “it’s but little I drame, any way. 
Jist keep an asy conscience and a plenty of the stuff in yee, 
and ye’ll sleep like an infant. The last drame I had was 
when the boys put the thistle-tops in the blankets, and then 30 
I was thinking that Captain Jack’s man was currying me 
down, for the matter of Roanoke; but it’s no trifle I mind 
either in skin or stomach.” 

“I’m sure,” said Katy, with a stiff erection that drew 
Lawton back in his saddle, “no man shall ever dare to lay 35 
hands on bed of mine; it’s undecent and despisable con- 
duct.” 

“Pooh! pooh!” cried Betty; “if you tag after a troop 
of horse, a small bit of a joke must be borne: what would 
become of the states and liberty, if the boys had never a 40 
clane shirt, or a drop to comfort them? Ask Captain 


276 


THE SPY 


Jack, there, if they’d fight, Mrs. Beelzeboob, and they no 
clane linen to keep the victory in.” 

“ I’m a single woman, and my name is Haynes,” said 
Katy, “and I’d thank you to use no disparaging terms 
5 when speaking to me.” 

“You must tolerate a little license in the tongue of Mrs. 
Flanagan, madam,” said the trooper; “ the drop she speaks 
of is often of an extraordinary size, and then she has ac- 
quired the freedom of a soldier’s manner.” 
lo “Pooh! Captain darling,” cried Betty, “why do you 
bother the woman ? talk like yeerself, dear, and it’s no fool 
of a tongue that yee’ve got in yeer own head. But it’s 
here away that the Sargeant made a halt, thinking there 
might be" more divils than one stirring, the night. The 
15 clouds are as black as Arnold’s heart,® and deuce the star 
is there twinkling among them. Well, the mare is used to 
a march after nightfall, and is smelling out the road like a 
pointer slut.” 

“It wants but little to the rising moon,” observed the 
20 trooper. He called a dragoon, who was riding in advance, 
issued a few orders and cautions relative to the comfort 
and safety of Singleton, and speaking a consoling word to 
his friend himself, gave Roanoke the spur, and dashed by 
the cart, at a rate that again put to flight all the philosophy 
25 of Catharine Haynes. 

“ Good luck to yee, for a free rider and a bold !” shouted 
the washerwoman, as he passed; “if yee’re meeting Mister 
Beelzeboob, jist back the baste up to him, and show him his 
consort that yee’ve got on the crupper. I’m thinking it’s 
30 no long he’d tarry to chat. Well, well, it’s his life that we 
saved, he was saying so himself — though the plunder is 
nothing to signify.” 

The cries of Betty Flanagan were too familiar to the ears 
of Captain Lawton to elicit a reply. Notwithstanding the 
35 unusual burden that Roanoke sustained, he got over the 
ground with great rapidity, and the distance between the 
cart of Mrs. Flanagan and the chariot of Miss Peyton was 
passed in a manner that, however it answered the intentions 
of the trooper, in no degree contributed to the comfort of 
40 his companion. The meeting occurred but a short distance 
from the quarters of Lawton, and at the same instant the 


THE SPY 


277 


moon broke from behind a mass of clouds, and threw its 
light upon objects. 

Compared with the simple elegance and substantial com- 
fort of the Locusts, the “Hotel Flanagan” presented but a 
dreary spectacle. In the place of carpeted floors and cur- 5 
: tained windows, were the yawning cracks of a rudely- 
I constructed dwelling, and boards and paper were ingen- 
[} iously applied to supply the place of the green glass in more 
I than half the lights. The care of Lawton had anticipated 
; every improvement that their situation would allow, and 10 
S blazing fires were made before the party arrived. The 
j dragoons, who had been charged with this duty, had con- 
i veyed a few necessary articles of furniture, and Miss Peyton 
and her companions, on alighting, found something like 
habitable apartments prepared for their reception. The 15 
mind of Sarah had continued to wander during the ride, 

)i| and, with the ingenuity of the insane, she accommodated 
fe every circumstance to the feelings that were uppermost in 
I her own bosom. 

i “It is impossible to minister to a mind that has sus- 20 
fi tained such a blow,” said Lawton to Isabella Singleton; 
i: “ time and God’s mercy can alone cure it ; but something 
jmore may be done towards the bodily comfort of all. You 
lare a soldier’s daughter, and used to scenes like this; help 
{me to exclude some of the cold air from these windows.” 25 
I Miss Singleton acceded to his request, and while Lawton 
«was endeavouring, from without, to remedy the defect of 

i ; broken panes, Isabella was arranging a substitute for a 
ij curtain within. 

I “ I hear the cart,” said the trooper, in reply to one of her ,3° 
ij interrogatories. “Betty is tender-hearted in the main; 

1 “ believe me, poor George wull not only be safe, but com- 
iifortable.” 

' “God bless her, for her care, and bless you all,” said 
^Isabella, fervently. “Dr. Sitgreaves has gone down the 35 
Jroad to meet him, I know — what is that glittering in the 
jmoon ?” 

1' Directly opposite the window where they stood, were the 
i outbuildings of the farm, and the quick eye of Lawton caught 
jat a glance the object to which she alluded. 40 

I “ ’Tis the glare of fire-arms,” said the trooper, springing 


278 


THE SPY 


from the window towards his charger, which yet remained 
caparisoned at the door. His movement was quick as 
thought, but a flash of fire was followed by the whistling of 
a bullet, before he had proceeded a step. A loud shriek 
5 burst from the dwelling, and the Captain sprang into his 
saddle : the whole was the business of but a moment. 

‘‘ Mount — mount, and follow \ ” shouted the trooper; and 
before his astonished men could understand the cause of 
alarm, Roanoke had carried him in safety over the fence 
lo which lay between him and his foe. The chase was for 
life or death, but the distance to the rocks was again too 
short, and the disappointed trooper saw his intended vic- 
tim vanish in their clefts, where he could not follow. 

“By the life of Washington,” muttered Lawton, as he 
15 sheathed his sabre, “I would have made two halves of him, 
had he not been so nimble on the foot — but a time will 
come !” So saying, he returned to his quarters, with the 
indifference of a man who knew his life was at any moment 
to be offered a sacrifice to his country. An extraordinary 
20 tumult in the house induced him to quicken his speed, and 
on arriving at the door, the panic-stricken Katy informed 
him that the bullet, aimed at his own life, had taken effect 
in the bosom of Miss Singleton. 


✓ 


CHAPTER XXIV 


Hush’d were his Gertrude’s lips ! but still their bland 
And beautiful expression seem’d to melt 
With love that could not die ! and still his hand 
She presses to the heart no more that felt. 

Gertrude of Wyoming, 

The brief arrangements of the dragoons had prepared 
two apartments for the reception of the ladies, the one being 
intended as a sleeping room, and situated within the other. 
Into the latter Isabella was immediately conveyed, at her 
own request, and placed on a rude bed by the side of the 5 
unconscious Sarah. When Miss Peyton and Frances flew 
to her assistance, they found her with a smile on her pallid 
lip, and a composure in her countenance, that induced them 
to think her uninjured. 

‘‘God be praised!” exclaimed the trembling aunt; “theio 
report of fire-arms, and your fall, had led me into an error. 
Surely, surely, there was enough of horror before; but this 
has been spared us.” 

Isabella pressed her hand upon her bosom, still smiling, 
but with a ghastliness that curdled the blood of Frances, — ^5 

“Is George far distant?” she asked, “let him know — 
hasten him, that I may see my brother, once again.” 

“It is as I apprehended!” shrieked Miss Peyton; “but 
you smile — surely you are not hurt !” 

“Quite well — quite happy,” murmured Isabella; “here 20 
is a remedy for every pain.” 

Sarah arose from the reclining posture she had taken, and 
gazed wildly at her companion. She stretched forth her 
own hand, and raised that of Isabella from her bosom. It 
was dyed in blood. 25 

“ See, said Sarah, “but will it not wash away love? 
Marry, young woman, and then no one can expel him from 
your heart, unless” — she added, whispering, and bending 
over the other, — “you find another there before you; then 
die, and go to heaven — there are no wives in heaven.” 3° 

279 


280 


THE SPY 


The lovely maniac hid her face under the clothes, and 
continued silent during the remainder of the night. At 
this moment Lawton entered. Inured as he was to danger 
in ail its forms, and accustomed to the horrors of a partisan 
5 war, the trooper could not behold the ruin before him, un- 
moved. He bent over the fragile form of Isabella, and his 
gloomy eye betrayed the workings of his soul. 

“Isabella,” he at length uttered, “I know you to possess 
a courage beyond the strength of women.” 
lo “Speak,” she said, earnestly; “if you have any thing to 
say, speak fearlessly.” 

The trooper averted his face as he replied — “None ever 
receive a ball there, and survive.” 

“I have no dread of death, Lawton,” returned Isabella 
IS — “I thank you for not doubting me; I felt it, from the 
first.” 

“These are -not scenes for a form like yours,” added the 
trooper: “ Tis enough that Britain calls our youth to the 
field ; but when such loveliness becomes the victim of war, 
20 I sicken of my trade.” 

“Hear me. Captain Lawton,” said Isabella, raising her- 
self with difficulty, but rejecting aid: “from early woman- 
hood to the present hour have I been an inmate of camps 
and garrisons. I have lived to cheer the leisure of an aged 
25 father, and think you I would change those days of danger 
and privation for any ease ? No! I have the consolation of 
knowing, in my dying moments, that what woman could 
do in such a cause, I have done.” 

“ Who could prove a recreant, and witness such a spirit ! 
30 Hundreds of warriors have I witnessed in their blood, but 
never a firmer soul among them all.” 

“ ’Tis the soul only,” said Isabella; “my sex and strength 
have denied me the dearest of privileges. But to you. 
Captain Lawton, nature has been more bountiful: you 
35 have an arm and a heart to devote to the cause; and I 
know they are an arm and a heart that will prove true to 
the last. And George — and — ” she paused, her lip 
quivered, and her eye sunk to the floor. 

“And Dunwoodie!” added the trooper; “would you 
40 speak of Dunwoodie?” 

“Name him not,” said Isabella, sinking back, and con- 


THE SPY 


281 


I cealing her face in her garments; ‘‘leave me, Lawton — 
prepare poor George for this unexpected blow.” 

The trooper continued for a little while gazing, in melan- 
choly interest, at the convulsive shudderings of her frame, 
which the scanty covering could not conceal, and withdrew 5 
'to meet his comrade. The interview between Singleton 
land his sister was painful, and, for a moment, Isabella 
■yielded to a burst of tenderness; but, as if aware that her 
hours were numbered, she was the first to rouse herself to 
i exertion. At her earnest request, the room was left to 10 
herself, the Captain, and Frances. The repeated applica- 
tions of the surgeon, to be permitted to use professional aid, 
were steadily rejected, and, at length, he was obliged un- 
willingly to retire. 

i “Raise me,” said the dying young woman, “and let me 15 
(I look on a face that I love, once more.” Frances silently 
;| complied, and Isabella turned her eyes in sisterly affection 
upon George — “It matters but little, my brother; — a 
few hours must close the scene.” 

“Live, Isabella, my sister, my only sister!” cried the 20 
youth, with a burst of sorrow that he could not control; 
“my father ! my poor father — ” 

“There is the sting of death; but he is a soldier and a 
Christian. Miss Wharton, I would speak of what interests 
you, while yet I have strength for the task.” 25 

“Nay,” said Frances, tenderly, “compose yourself; let 
no desire to oblige me endanger a life that is precious to — 
to — so many.” The words were nearly stifled by her 
emotions, for the other had touched a chord that thrilled 
to her heart. 3 ° 

“Poor, sensitive girl!” said Isabella, regarding her with 
tender interest; “but the world is still before you, and why 
should I disturb the little happiness it may afford ! Dream 
on, lovely innocent! and may God keep the evil day of 
knowledge far distant !” 35 

“Oh, there is even now little left for me to enjoy,” said 
Frances, burying her face in the clothes; “I am heart- 
stricken, in all that I most loved.” 

“No!” interrupted Isabella;' “you have one inducement 
to wish for life, that pleads strongly in a woman’s breast. 40 
It is a. delusion that nothing but death can destroy — ” 


282 


THE SPY 


Exhaustion compelled her to pause, and her auditors con- 
tinued in breathless suspense, until, recovering her strength, I 
she laid her hand on that of Frances, and continued more 
mildly — “Miss Wharton, if there breathes a spirit con- 
5 genial to Dunwoodie’s, and worthy of his love, it is your 
own.’’ 

A flush of fire passed over the face of the listener, and she 
raised her eyes, flashing with an ungovernable look of 
delight, to the countenance of Isabella; but the ruin she 
lo beheld recalled better feelings, and again her head dropped 
upon the covering of the bed. Isabella watched her emo- 
tion with a look that partook both of pity and admiration. 

“Such have been the feelings that I have escaped,” she 
continued; “yes. Miss Wharton, Dunwoodie is wholly 
15 yours.” 

“Be just to yourself, my sister,” exclaimed the youth; 
“let no romantic generosity cause you to forget your own 
character.” 

She heard him, and fixed a gaze of tender interest on his 
20 face, but slowly shook her head as she replied — , 

“It is not romance, but truth, that bids me speak. Oh ! I 
how much have I lived within an hour ! Miss Wharton, I \ 
was born under a burning sun, and my feelings seem to | 
have imbibed its warmth; I have existed for passion, only.” : 
25 “Say not so — say not so, I implore you,” cried the j 
agitated brother; “think how devoted has been your love | 
to our aged father; how disinterested, how tender, your I 
affection to me !” | 

“Yes,” said Isabella, a smile of mild pleasure beaming 
30 on her countenance; “that, at least, is a reflection which | 
may be taken to the grave.” 1 

Neither Frances nor her brother interrupted her medi- ' 
tations, which continued for several minutes; when, sud- | 
denly recollecting herself, she continued — 

35 “ I remain selfish even to the last; with me. Miss Wharton, 

America and her liberties was my earliest passion, and — ’ 
again she paused, and Frances thought it was the struggle 
of death that followed; but reviving, she proceeded — • 
Why should I hesitate, on the brink of the grave ! Dun- 
40 woodie was my next and my last. But,” burying her face 
in her hands, “it was a love that was unsought.” 


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283 


Isabella exclaimed her brother, springing from the 
bed, and pacing the floor in disorder. 

; “See how dependent we become under the dominion of 
worldly pride; it is painful to George to learn that one he 
loves had not feelings superior to her nature and education.” 5 

“Say no more,” whispered Frances; “you distress us 
both — say no more, I entreat you.” 

“In justice to Dunwoodie I must speak ; and for the same 
reason, my brother, you must listen. By no act or word 
has Dunwoodie ever induced me to believe, he wished me ro 
more than a friend : nay, latterly, I have had the burning 
: shame of thinking that he avoided my presence.” 

“Would he dare!” said Singleton, fiercely. 

“Peace, my brother, and listen,” continued Isabella, 
rousing herself with an effort that was final; “here is the 15 
innocent, the justifiable cause. We are both motherless; 
but that aunt — that mild, plain-hearted, observing aunt, 
has given you the victory. Oh ! how much she loses, who 
loses a female guardian to her youth. I have exhibited 
those feelings which you have been taught to repress. After 20 
this, can I wish to live?” 

“ Isabella 1 my poor Isabella ! you wander in your mind.” 

“But one word more — for I feel that blood, which ever 
flowed too swiftly, rushing where nature never intended it 
to go. Woman must be sought to be prized; her life is 25 
one of concealed emotions ; blessed are they whose early 
impressions make the task free from hypocrisy, for such 
only can be happy with men like — like Dunwoodie.” Her 
voice failed, and she sunk back on her pillow in silence. The 
cry of Singleton brought the rest of the party to her bedside, 30 
but death was already upon her countenance; her remain- 
ing strength just sufficed to reach the hand of George, and 
pressing it to her bosom for a moment, she relinquished her 
grasp, and, with a slight convulsion, expired. 

Frances Wharton had thought that fate had done its 35 
worst, in endangering the life of her brother, and destroy- 
ing the reason of her sister; but the relief conveyed by the 
dying declaration of Isabella taught her that another sor- 
row had aided in loading her heart with grief. She saw the 
whole truth at a glance; nor was the manly delicacy of 40 
Dunwoodie lost upon her — every thing tended to raise 


284 


THE SPY 


him in her estimation; and, for mourning that duty andj 
pride had induced her to strive to think less of him, she was 
compelled to substitute regret that her own act had driven! 
him from her in sorrow, if not in desperation. It is not inj 
5 the nature of youth, however, to despair; and. Frances I 
knew a secret joy in the midst of their distress, that gave* 
a new spring to her existence. ■ 

The sun broke forth, on the morning that succeeded this 
night of desolation, in unclouded lustre, and seemed to I 
lo mock the petty sorrows of those who received his rays. ; 
Lawton had early ordered his steed, and was ready to 
mount as the first burst of light broke over the hills. His 
orders were already given, and the trooper threw his leg 
across the saddle, in silence; and, casting a glance of fierce 
15 chagrin at the narrow space that had favoured the flight 
of the Skinner, he gave Roanoke the rein, and moved slowly 
towards the valley. | 

The stillness of death pervaded the road, nor was there a 
single vestige of the scenes of the night, to tarnish the love- \ 
20 liness of a glorious morn. Struck with the contrast between 
man and nature, the fearless trooper rede by each pass of 
danger, regardless of what might happen; nor did he rouse' 
himself from his musing, until the noble charger, snuffing, 
the morning air, greeted the steeds of the guard under ; 
25 Sergeant Hollister. 

Here, indeed, was to be seen sad evidence of the mid- 
night fray; but the trooper glanced his eye over it with the 
coolness of one accustomed to such sights. Without wast- 
ing the moments in useless regrets, he proceeded, at once, 
30 to business — 

Have you seen any thing?” he demanded of the orderly 
“Nothing, sir, that we dared to charge upon,” returned 
Hollister; “but we mounted once, at the report of distant 
fire-arms.” 

35 “ ’Tis well,” said Lawton, gloomily. “Ah! Hollister, I 

would give the animal I ride, to have had your single arm 
between the wretch who drew that trigger and these useless 
rocks, which overhang every bit of ground, as if they 
grudged pasture to a single hoof.” 

40 “Under the light of day, and charging man to man, I am 
as good as another; but I can’t say that I’m over-fond of 


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285 


fighting with those that neither steel nor lead can bring 
down.” 

“What silly crotchet is uppermost, now, in that mystified 
brain of thine. Deacon Hollister?” 

“I like not the dark object that has been manoeuvring in 5 
the skirt of the wood since the first dawn of day; and twice, 
during the night, it was seen marching across the fire-light, 
no doubt with evil intent.” 

“Is it yon ball of black, at the foot of the rock-maple, 
that you mean? In truth it moves.” 10 

“But without mortal motion,” said the Sergeant, regard- 
ing it with awful reverence: “it glides along, but no feet 
have been seen by any who watch here.” 

“Had it wings,” cried Lawton, “it is mine; stand fast, 
until I join.” The words were hardly uttered before 15 
Roanoke was flying across the plain, and apparently verify- 
ing the boast of his master. 

“Those cursed rocks !” ejaculated the trooper, as he saw 
the object of his pursuit approaching the hill-side; but, 
either Horn want of practice or from terror, it passed the 20 
obvious shelter they offered, 'and fled into the open plain. 

“I have you, man or devil!” shouted Lawton, whirling 
his sabre from its scabbard. “Halt, and take quarter!” 

Plis proposition was apparently acceded to; for, at the 
sound of his powerful voice, the figure sunk upon the 25 
ground, exhibiting a shapeless ball of black, without life or 
motion. 

“What have we here?” cried Lawton, drawing up by 
its side; “a gala suit of the good maiden, Jeanette Peyton, 
wandering around its birth-place, or searching in vain for 30 
its discomfited mistress?” He leaned forward in his 
stirrups, and placing the point of his sword under the 
silken garment, by throwing aside the covering, discovered 
part of the form of the reverend gentleman who had fled 
from the Locusts, the evening before, in his robes of office. 35 

“In truth, Hollister had some ground for his alarm; an 
army chaplain is, at any time, a terror to a troop of horse.” 

The clergyman had collected enough of his disturbed 
faculties, to discover that it was a face he knew, and, some- 
what disconcerted at the terror he had manifested, and the 40 
indecent attitude in which he had been found, he endeav- 


286 


THE SPY 


oured to rise, and offer some explanation. Lawton re- 
ceived his apologies good-humouredly, if not with much 
faith in their truth ; and, after a short communication upon 
the state of the valley, the trooper courteously alighted, and 
5 they proceeded towards the guard. 

“I am so little acquainted, sir, with the rebel uniform, that 
I really was unable to distinguish, whether those men, 
whom you say are your own, did or did not belong to the 
gang of marauders.’’ 

lo “Apology, sir, is unnecessary,” replied the trooper, curl- 
ing his lip; “it is not your task, as a minister of God, to 
take note of the facings of a coat. The standard under 
which you serve is acknowledged by us all.” 

“I serve under the standard of his gracious majesty 
15 George III.,” returned the priest, wiping the cold sweat 
from his brow; “but really the idea of being scalped has a 
strong tendency to unman a new beginner, like myself.” 

“Scalped!” echoed Lawton, stopping short in his walk; 
then recollecting himself, he added, with composure, — ■ 
20 “If it is to Dunwoodie’s squadron of Virginia light dragoons 
that you allude, it may be well to inform you that they 
generally take a bit of the skull with the skin.” 

“Oh 1 I can have no apprehensions of gentlemen of your 
appearance,” said the divine, with a smirk; “it is the 
25 natives that I apprehend.” 

“Natives 1 I have the honour to be one, I do assure you, 
sir.” 

“Nay, I beg that I may be understood — I mean the 
Indians; they who do nothing but rob, and murder, and 
30 destroy.” 

“And scalp 1 ” 

“_Yes, sir, and scalp too,” continued the clergyman, 
eyeing his companion a little suspiciously; “the copper- 
coloured, savage Indians.” 

35 “And did you expect to meet those nose-jewelled® gentry 
in the neutral ground?” 

“Certainly; we understand in England that the interior- 
swarms with them.” 

“And call you this the interior of America?”® cried 
40 Lawtoh, again halting, and staring the other in the face, 
with a surprise too naturally expressed to be counterfeited. 


THE SPY 


287 


“Surely, sir, I conceive myself to be in the interior." 

“Attend," said Lawton, pointing towards the east; “see 
you not that broad sheet of water which the eye cannot 
compass? thither lies the England you deem worthy to 
hold dominion over half the world. See you the land of 5 
your nativity?" 

“ ’Tis impossible to behold objects at a distance of three 
thousand miles!" exclaimed the wondering priest, a little 
suspicious of his companion’s sanity. 

“No 1 what a pity it is that the powers of man are not 10 
[equal to his ambition. Now turn your eyes westward; ob- 
Iserve that vast expanse of water which rolls between the 
shores of America and China." 

“I see nothing but land," said the trembling priest; 
“there is no water to be seen.” 15 

“ ’Tis impossible to behold objects at a distance of three 
thousand miles!" repeated Lawton, pursuing his walk: 
“if you apprehend the savages, seek them in the ranks of 
your prince. Rum and gold have preserved their loyalty." 

“Nothing is more probable than my being deceived," said 20 
the man of peace, casting furtive glances at the colossal 
stature and whiskered front of his companion; “but the 
rumours we have at home, and the uncertainty of meeting 
iwith such an enemy as yourself, induced me to fly at your 
approach." 25 

“ ’Twas not judiciously determined," said the trooper, 
“as Roanoke has the heels of you greatly; and flying from 
|Scylla, you were liable to encounter Charybdis.° Those 
I woods and rocks cover the very enemies you dread." 

“The savages!" exclaimed the divine, instinctively plac- 3° 
ing the trooper in the rear. 

“More than savages; men who, under the guise of 
patriotism, prowl through the community, with a thirst 
for plunder that is unsatiable, and a love of cruelty that 
mocks the ingenuity of the Indian. Fellows whose mouths 35 
are filled with liberty and equality, and whose hearts are 
overflowing with cupidity and gall — gentlemen that are 
yclep’d the Skinners." 

“I have heard them mentioned in our army," said the 
frightened divine, “and had thought them to be the abo-40 
rigines." 


288 


THE SPY 


“You did the savages injustice.” 

They now approached the spot occupied by Hollister, 
who witnessed with surprise the character of the prisoner 
made by his captain. Lawton gave his orders, and the 
5 men immediately commenced securing and removing such 
articles of furniture as were thought worthy of the trouble ; 
and the captain, with his reverend associate, who was 
mounted on a mettled horse, returned to the quarters of 
the troop. 

lo It was the wish of Singleton that the remains of his sister 
should be conveyed to the post commanded by his father, 
and preparations were early made to this effect. The 
wounded British were placed under the control of the chap- 
lain; and towards the middle of the day Lawton saw all 
1 5 the arrangements so far completed, as to render it probable 
that in a few hours he would be left, with his small party, 
in undisturbed possession of the Corners. 

While leaning in the door-way, gazing in moody silence 
at the ground which had been the scene of the last night’s 
20 chase, his ear caught the sound of a horse, and the next 
moment a dragoon of his own troop appeared dashing up 
the road, as if on business of the last importance. The 
steed was foaming, and the rider had the appearance of 
having done a hard day’s service. Without speaking, he 
25 placed a letter in the hand of Lawton, and led his charger 
to the stable. The trooper knew the hand of the major, 
and ran his eye over the following ; — 

“I rejoice it is the order of Washington, that the family 
of the Locusts are to be removed above the Highlands. 
30 They are to be admitted to the society of Captain Wharton, 
who waits only for their testimony to be tried. You will 
communicate this order, and with proper delicacy I do not 
doubt. The English are moving up the river; and the 
moment you see the Whartons in safety, break up, and join 
35 your troop. There will be good service to be done when 
we meet, as Sir Henry is reported to have sent out a real 
soldier in command. Reports must be made to the com- 
mandant at Peekskill, for Colonel Singleton is withdrawn 
to head-quarters, to preside over the enquiry upon poor 
40 Wharton. Fresh orders have been sent to hang the pedler 
if we can take him, but they are not from the commander- 


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289 


in-chief. — Detail a small guard with the ladies, and get 
into the saddle as soon as possible. 

“Yours, sincerely, 

I “Peyton Dunwoodie.” 

This communication entirely changed the whole arrange- 5 
' iment. There was no longer any motive for removing the 
I body of Isabella, since her father was no longer with his 
1 'command, and Singleton reluctantly acquiesced in an im- 
: 'mediate interment. A retired and lovely spot was selected, 
tpear the foot of the adjacent rocks, and such rude prepara- la 
h tions were made as the time and the situation of the country 
I permitted. A few of the neighbouring inhabitants collected 
'from curiosity and interest, and Miss Peyton and Frances 
iwept in sincerity over her grave. The solemn offices of the 
church were performed by the minister, who had so lately 15 
stood forth to officiate in another and very different duty; 
and Lawton bent his head, and passed his hand across his 
brow, while the words that accompanied the first clod were 
'Uttered. 

A new stimulus was given to the Whartons by the intel- 20 
ligence conveyed in the letter of Dunwoodie; and Csesar, 

I with his horses, was once more put in requisition. The 
relics of the property were entrusted to a neighbour, in 
whom they had confidence; and, accompanied by the 
unconscious Sarah, and attended by four dragoons and all 25 
of the American wounded, Mr. Wharton’s party took their 
departure. They were speedily followed by the English 
'chaplain, with his countrymen, who were conveyed to the 
water-side, where a vessel was in waiting to receive them. 
Lawton joyfully witnessed these movements; and as soon 3 ° 
as the latter were out of sight, he ordered his own bugle to 
j sound’. Every thing was instantly in motion. The mare 
of Mrs. Flanagan was again fastened to the cart; Dr. Sit- 
greaves exhibited his shapeless form once more on horse- 
back; and the trooper appeared in the saddle, rejoicing in 35 
his emancipation. 

The word to march was given; and Lawton, throwing a 
look of sullen ferocity at the place of the Skinner’s conceal- 
ment, and another of melancholy regret towards the grave of 
Isabella, led the way, accompanied by the surgeon in a 40 
u 


290 


THE SPY 


brown® study; while Sergeant Hollister and Betty brought ; 
up the rear, leaving a fresh southerly wind to whistle through i 
the open doors and broken windows of the “ Hotel Flanagan,’’ 
where the laugh of hilarity, the joke of the hardy partisan, 

5 and the lamentations of the sorrowing, had so lately echoed. 


CHAPTER XXV 


No vernal blooms their torpid rocks array, 

But winter, lingering, chills the lap of May ; 

No zephyr fondly sues the mountain’s breast. 

But meteors glare, and stormy glooms invest. 

Goldsmith. 

The roads of West-Chester are, at this hour,° below the 
improvements of the country. Their condition at the time 
of the tale has already been alluded to in these pages; and 
the reader will, therefore, easily imagine the task assumed 
by Caesar, when he undertook to guide the translated char- 5 
iot of the English prelate through their windings, into one 
of the less frequented passes of the Highlands of the Hudson. 

While Caesar and his steeds were contending with these 
difficulties, the inmates of the carriage were too much en- 
grossed with their own cares to attend to those who served 10 
them. The mind of Sarah had ceased to wander so wildly 
as at first; but at every advance that she made towards 
reason, she seemed to retire a step from animation; from 
being excited and flighty, she was gradually becoming 
moody and melancholy. There were moments, indeed, 15 
when her anxious companions thought that they could 
discern marks of recollection; but the expression of ex- 
quisite wo that accompanied these transient gleams of 
reason, forced them to the dreadful alternative of wishing 
that she might for ever be spared the agony of thought. 20 
The day’s march was performed chiefly in silence, and the 
party found shelter for the night in different farm-houses. 

The following morning the cavalcade dispersed. The 
wounded diverged towards the river, with the intention of 
taking water at Peekskill, in order to be transported to the 25 
hospitals of the American army above. The litter of Single- 
ton was conveyed to a part of the Highlands where his 
father held his quarters, and where it was intended that 
the youth should complete his cure; the carriage of Mr. 

291 


292 


THE SPY 


Wharton, accompanied by a waggon conveying the house- 
keeper and what baggage had been saved, and could be 
transported, resumed its route towards the place where 
Henry Wharton was held in duresse, and where he only 
5 waited their arrival to be put on trial for his life. 

The country which lies between the waters of the Hud- 
son and Long-Island Sound, is, for the first forty miles from 
their junction, a succession of hills and dales. The land 
bordering on the latter then becomes less abrupt, and 
lo gradually assumes a milder appearance, until it finally 
melts into the lovely plains and meadows of the Connecticut. 
But as you approach the Hudson, the rugged aspect in- 
creases, until you at length meet with the formidable barrier 
of the Highlands.® Here the Neutral Ground ceased. The 
1 5 royal army held the two points of land that commanded the 
southern entrance of the river into the mountains; but all 
the remaining passes were guarded by the Americans. 

We have already stated that the pickets of the continental 
army were sometimes pushed low into the country, and 
20 that the hamlet of the White Plains was occasionally main- 
tained by parties of its troops. At other times, the ad- 
vanced guards were withdrawn to the northern extremity 
of the county, and, as has been shown, the intermediate 
country was abandoned to the ravages of the miscreants who 
25 plundered between both armies, serving neither. 

The road taken by our party was not the one that com- 
municates between the two principal cities of the state, but 
was a retired and unfrequented pass, that to this hour is but 
little known, and which entering the hills near the eastern 
30 boundary, emerges into the plain above, many miles from 
the Hudson. 

It would have been impossible for the tired steeds of 
Mr. Wharton to drag the heavy chariot up the lengthened 
and steep ascents which now lay before them; and a pair 
35 of country horses were procured, with but little regard to 
their owner’s wishes, by the two dragoons who still con- 
tinued to accompany the party. With their assistance, 
Caesar was enabled to advance, by slow and toilsome steps, 
into the bosom of the hills. Willing to relieve her own 
40 melancholy by breathing a fresher air, and also to lessen the 
weight, Frances alighted as they reached the foot of the 


THE SPY 


293 


mountain. She found that Katy had made similar prepa- 
' rations, with the like intention of walking to the summit. 

I It was near the setting of the sun, and, from the top of the 
mountain, their guard had declared that the end of their 
journey might be discerned. Frances moved forward with 5 
the elastic step of youth; and, followed by the housekeeper 
i at a little distance, she soon lost sight of the sluggish carriage, 

I that was slowly toiling up the hill, occasionally halting to 
1 allow the cattle to breathe. 

! ‘'Oh, Miss Fanny, what dreadful times these be!” said 10 

Katy, when they paused for breath themselves; “ I know’d 
that calamity was about to befall, ever sin’ the streak of 
blood was seen in the clouds.” 

“There has been blood upon earth, Katy, though but 
little is ever seen in the clouds.” 15 

! “Not blood in the clouds!” echoed the housekeeper; 
“yes, that there has, often, and comets with fiery, smoking 
tails. Didn’t people see armed men in the heavens, the 
year the war begun ? and, the night before the battle of the 
Plains, wasn’t there thunder, like the cannon themselves ? 20 
— Ah I Miss Fanny, I’m fearful that no good can follow 
rebellion against the Lord’s anointed I” 

“These events are certainly dreadful,” returned Frances, 
“and enough to sicken the stoutest heart. But what can 
be done, Katy? — Gallant and independent men are un- 25 
willing to submit to oppression ; and I am fearful that such 
scenes are but too common in war.” 

“ If I could but see any thing to fight about,” said Katy, 
renewing her walk as the young lady proceeded, “ I shouldn’t 
mind it so much. ’Twas said the king wanted all the tea for 30 
his own family, at one time ; and then again, that he meant 
the colonies should pay over to him all their earnings. Now 
this is matter enough to fight about — for I’m sure that no 
one, however he may be lord or king, has a right to the 
hard earnings of another. Then it was all contradicted, 35 
and some said Washington wanted to be king himself; so 
that, between the two, one doesn’t know which to believe.” 

“ Believe neither — for neither is true. I do not pretend 
to understand, myself, all the merits of this war, Katy; but 
to me it seems unnatural, that a country like this should be 4 <' 
ruled by another so distant as England.” 


294 


THE SPY 


“So I have heard Harvey say to his father, that is dead 
and in his grave/’ returned Katy, approaching nearer to 
the young lady, and lowering her voice. “ Many is the 
good time that I’ve listened to them talking, when all the 
5 neighbourhood was asleep ; and such conversations, Miss 
Fanny, that you can have no idea on ! — Well, to say the 
truth, Harvey was a mystified body, and he was like the 
winds in the good book; no one could tell whence he came, 
or whither he went.” 

lo Frances glanced her eye at her companion with an ap- 
parent desire to hear more. 

“There are rumours abroad relative to the character of 
Harvey,” she said, “ that I should be sorry were true.” 

“ ’Tis a disparagement, every word on’t,” cried Katy, 
15 vehemently ; “ Harvey had no more dealings with Beelzebub 
than you or I had. I’m sure if Harvey had sold himself, he 
would take care to be better paid; though, to speak the 
truth, he was always a wasteful and disregardful man.” 

“Nay, nay,” returned the smiling Frances, “I have no 
20 such injurious suspicion of him; but has he not sold himself 
to an earthly prince — one too much attached to the in- 
terests of his native island to be always just to this country ? ” 

“To the king’s majesty!” replied Katy. “Why, Miss 
Fanny, your own brother that is in gaol serves King George.” 
25 “ True,” said Frances, “ but not in secret — openly, man- 

fully, and bravely.” 

“’Tis said he is a spy, and why ain’t one spy as bad as 
another?” 

“ ’Tis untrue; no act of deception is worthy of my 
30 brother; nor of any would he be guilty, for so base a pur- 
pose as gain, or promotion.” 

“ Well, I’m sure,” said Katy, a little appalled at the 
manner of the young lady, “ if a body does the work, he 
should be paid for it. Harvey is by no means partic’lar 
35 about getting his lawful dues; and I dar’st to say, if the 
truth was forthcoming, King George owes him money this 
very minute.” 

“ Then you acknowledge his connexion with the British 
army,” said Frances; “I confess there have been moments 
40 when I have thought differently.” 

“Lord, Miss Fanny, Harvey is a man that no calculation 


THE SPY 


295 


can be made on. Though I lived in his house for a long 
concourse of years, I hav(f never known whether he belonged 
above or below. ° The time that Burg’yne was taken, he 
came home, and there was great doings between him and 
the old gentleman, but for the life I couldn’t tell if ’twas 5 
joy or grief. Then, here, the other day, when the great 
British general — Tm sure I have been so flurried with 
losses and troubles, that I forget his name — ” 

“ Andre,” said Frances. 

“ Yes, Ondree; when he was hanged, acrost the Tappaan,° 10 
the old gentleman was near hand to going crazy about it, 
and didn’t sleep for night nor day, till Harvey got back; an 
then his money was mostly golden guineas; but the Skin- 
ners took it all, and now he is a beggar, or, what’s the same 
thing, despisable for poverty and want.” 15 

To this speech Frances made no reply, but continued her 
walk up the hill, deeply engaged in her own reflections. 
The allusion to Andre had recalled her thoughts to the 
situation of her own brother. 

They soon reached the highest point in their toilsome 20 
progress to the summit, and Frances seated herself on a 
rock to rest and to admire. Immediately at her feet lay a 
deep dell, but little altered by cultivation, and dark with 
the gloom of a November sunset. Another hill rose oppo- 
site to the place where she sat, at no great distance, along 25 
whose rugged sides nothing was to be seen but shapeless 
rocks, and oaks whose stinted growth showed a meagre soil. 

To be seen in their perfection, the Highlands must be 
passed immediately after the fall of the leaf. The scene is 
then the finest, for neither the scanty foliage which the 30 
summer lends the trees, nor the snows of winter, are present 
to conceal the minutest objects from the eye. Chilling 
solitude is the characteristic of the scenery ; nor is the mind 
at liberty, as in March, to look forward to a renewed vege- 
tation that is soon to check, without improving, the view. 35 

The day had been cloudy and cool, and thin fleecy clouds 
hung around the horizon, often promising to disperse, but 
as frequently disappointing Frances in the hope of catching 
a parting beam from the setting sun. At length a solitary 
gleam struck on the base of the mountain on which she was 40 
gazing, and moved gracefully up its side, until, reaching 


296 


THE SPY 


1 

'the summit, it stood for a minute, forming a crown of glory ' 
to the sombre pile. So strong were the rays, that what 
was before indistinct now clearly opened to the view. With ' 
a feeling of awe at being thus unexpectedly admitted, as it ' 
5 were, into the secrets of that desert place, Frances gazed 
intently, until, among the scattered trees and fantastic 
rocks, something like a rude structure was seen. It was 
low, and so obscured by the colour of its materials, that but < 
for its roof, and the glittering of a window, it must have 
lo escaped her notice. While yet lost in the astonishment 
created by discovering a habitation in such a spot, on mov- 
ing her eyes she perceived another object that increased her 
wonder. It apparently was a human figure, but of singular 
mould and unusual deformity. It stood on the edge of a 
15 rock, a little above the hut, and it was no difficult task for 
our heroine to fancy it was gazing at the vehicles that were 
ascending the side of the mountain beneath her. The dis- 
tance, however, was too great to distinguish with precision. 
After looking at it a moment in breathless wonder, Frances 
20 had just come to the conclusion that it was ideal, and that 
what she saw was a part of the rock itself, when the object 
moved swiftly from its position, and glided into the hut, at 
once removing every doubt as to the nature of either. 
Whether it was owing to the recent conversation that she 
25 had been holding with Katy, or to some fancied resemblance 
that she discerned, Frances thought, as the figure vanished 
from her view, that it bore a marked likeness to Birch, 
moving under the weight of his pack. She continued to 
gaze towards the mysterious residence, when the gleam of 
30 light passed away, and at the same instant the tones of a 
bugle rang through the glens and hollows, and were re- 
echoed in every direction. Springing on her feet, the 
alarmed girl heard the trampling of horses, and directly a 
party in the well-known uniform of the Virginians came 
35 sweeping round the point of a rock near her, and drew up 
at a short distance. Again the bugle sounded a lively 
strain, and before the agitated Frances had time to rally 
her thoughts, Dunwoodie dashed by the party of dragoons, 
threw himself from his charger, and advanced to her side. 

40 His manner was earnest and interested, but in a slight 
degree constrained. In a few words he explained that he 


THE SPY 


297 


had been ordered up, with a party of Lawton’s men, in the 
absence of the Captain himself, to attend the trial of Henry, 
which was fixed for the morrow; and that, anxious for their 
safety in the rude passes of the mountain, he had ridden a 
mile or two in quest of the travellers. Frances explained, 5 
with trembling voice, the reason of her being in advance, 
and taught him momentarily to expect the arrival of her 
father. The constraint of his manner had, however, un- 
willingly on her part, communicated itself to her own deport- 
ment, and the approach of the chariot was a relief to both. 10 
Th6 Major handed her in, spoke a few words of encourage- 
ment to Mr. Wharton and Miss Peyton, and again mounting, 
led the way towards the plains of Fishkill,® which broke on 
their sight, on turning the rock, with the effect of enchant- 
ment. A short half-hour brought them to the door of the 15 
farm-house, which the care of Dunwoodie had already pre- 
pared for their reception, and where Captain Wharton was 
anxiously expecting their arrival. 


CHAPTER XXVI 


These limbs are strengthen’d with a soldier’s toil. 

Nor has this cheek been ever blanch’d with fear — 

But this sad tale of thine enervates all ^ 

Within me that I once could boast as man ; 

Chill trembling agues seize upon my frame, . 

And tears of childish sorrow pour, apace, f 

Through scarred channels that were mark’d by wounds, i 

Duo, 

J 

The friends of Henry Wharton had placed so much reli- 
ance on his innocence, that they were unable to see the full 
danger of his situation. As the moment of trial, however, 
approached, the uneasiness of the youth himself increased; 

5 and after spending most of the night with his afflicted 
family, he awoke, on the following morning, from a short 
and disturbed slumber, to a clearer sense of his condition, 
and a survey of the means that were to extricate him from 
it with life. The rank of Andre, and the importance of the 
lo measures he was plotting, together with the powerful inter- 
cessions that had been made in his behalf, occasioned his 
execution to be stamped with greater notoriety than the 
ordinary events of the war. But spies were frequently 
arrested; and the instances that occurred of summary 
15 punishment for this crime were numerous. These were 
facts that were well known to both Dunwoodie and the 
prisoner; and to their experienced judgments the prepara- 
tions for the trial were indeed alarming. Notwithstanding 
their apprehensions, they succeeded so far in concealing 
20 them, that neither Miss Peyton nor Frances was aware of 
their extent. A strong guard was stationed in the out- 
building of the farm-house where the prisoner was quar- 
tered, and several sentinels w'atched the avenue's that 
approached the dwelling. Another was constantly near 
25 the room of the British offleer. A court was already 
detailed to examine into the circumstances ; and upon their 
decision the fate of Henry rested. 

298 


THE SPY 


299 


The moment at length arrived, and the different actors 
in the approaching investigation assembled. Frances 
experienced a feeling like suffocation, as, after taking her 
seat in the midst of her family, her eyes wandered over the 
group who were thus collected. The judges, three in 5 
number, sat by themselves, clad in the vestments of their 
profession, and maintained a gravity worthy of the occa- 
sion, and becoming in their rank. In the centre was a 
man of advanced years, and whose whole exterior bore the 
stamp of early and long-tried military habits. This was 10 
the president of the court; and Frances, after taking a 
hasty and unsatisfactory view of his associates, turned to 
his benevolent countenance as to the harbinger of mercy 
to her brother. There was a melting and subdued expres- 
sion in the features of the veteran, that, contrasted with the 15 
rigid decency and composure of the others, could not fail 
to attract her notice. His attire was strictly in conformity 
to the prescribed rules of the service to which he belonged; 
but while his hair was erect and military, his fingers trifled, 
with a kind of convulsive and unconscious motion, with a 20 
bit of crape that entwined the hilt of the sword on which 
his body partly reclined, and which, like himself, seemed 
a relic of older times. There were the workings of an un- 
quiet soul within; but his military front blended awe with 
the pity that its exhibition excited. His associates were 25 
officers selected from the eastern troops, who held the 
fortresses of West Point and the adjacent passes; they were 
men who had attained the meridian of life, and the eye 
sougjit in vain the expression of any passion or emotion on 
which it might seize as an indication of human infirmity. 3 ° 
In their demeanour, there was a mild, but a grave, intel- 
lectual reserve. If there was no ferocity nor harshness 
to chill, neither was there compassion nor interest to 
attract. They were men who had long acted under the 
dominion of a prudent reason, and whose feelings seemed 35 
trained to a perfect submission to their judgments. 

Before these arbiters of his fate Henry Wharton was 
ushered, under the custody of armed men. A profound 
and awful silence succeeded his entrance, and the blood of 
Frances chilled as she noted the grave character of the 4° 
whole proceedings. There was but little of pomp in the 


300 


THE SPY 


?! 


preparations, to impress her imagination ; but the reserved, j 
business-like air of the whole scene made it seem, indeed, as ! 
if the destinies of life awaited the result. Two of the 
judges sat in grave reserve, fixing their enquiring eyes on ^ 
5 the object of their investigation; but the president con- 
tinued gazing around with uneasy, convulsive motions of j 
the muscles of the face, that indicated a restlessness, foreign ; 
to his years and duty. It was Colonel Singleton, who, but , 
the day before, had learned the fate of Isabella, but who | 
lo stood forth in the discharge of a duty that his country ■ 
required at his hands. The silence, and the expectation in 
every eye, at length struck him, and making an effort to 
collect himself, he spoke, in the tones of one used to author- 
ity. ; 

15 “Bring forth the prisoner,” he said, with a wave of the. 
hand. 

The sentinels dropped the points of their bayonets towards . 
the judges, and Henry Wharton advanced, with a firm step, ' 
into the centre of the apartment. All was now anxiety and | 
20 eager curiosity. Frances turned for a moment in grateful | 
emotion, as the deep and perturbed breathing of Dun- 1 
woodie reached her ears; but her brother again concen- j 
trated all her interest in one feeling of intense care. In the '"I 
back-ground were arranged the inmates of the family who f! 
25 owned the dwelling, and behind them, again, was a row of !• 
shining faces of ebony, glistening with pleased wonder .5 
Amongst these was the faded lustre of Caesar Thompson’s" 
countenance. 

“You are said,” continued the president, “to be Henry | 
30 Wharton, a captain in his Britannic majesty’s 60 th regiment I 
of foot.” ; 

“ I am.” i ; 

“I like your candour, sir; it partakes of the honourable’ 1 
feelings of a soldier, and cannot fail to impress your judges 
35 favourably.” 

“It would be prudent,” said one of his companions, “to 
advise the prisoner that he is bound to answer no more 
than he deems necessary : although we are a court of mar- 
tial law, yet, in this respect, we own the principles of all “ 
40 free governments.” 

A nod of approbation from the silent member was be- , 


THE SPY 


301 


stowed on this remark, and the president proceeded with 
: caution, referring to the minutes he held in his hand. 

“It is an accusation against you, that, being an officer 
i of the enemy, you passed the pickets of the American army 
i at the White Plains, in disguise, on the 29 th of October last, 5 
whereby you are suspected of views hostile to the interests 
of America, and have subjected yourself to the punishment 
i of a spy.” 

The mild, but steady tones of the speaker, as he slowly 
repeated the substance of this charge, were full of authority. lo 
I The accusation was so plain, the facts so limited, the proof 
I so obvious, and the penalty so well established, that escape 
seemed impossible. But Henry replied, with earnest 
grace — 

j “ That I passed your pickets in disguise, is true ; but — ” ^5 

“Peace!” interrupted the president; “the usages of war 
are stern enough in themselves; you need not aid them 
to your own condemnation.” 

“The prisoner can retract that declaration, if he please,” 
remarked another judge. “His confession, if taken, goes 20 
fully to prove the charge.” 

“I retract nothing that is true,” said Henry, proudly. 

The two nameless judges heard him in silent composure, 
yet there was no exultation mingled with their gravity. 
The president now appeared, however, to take new interest 25 
in the scene. 

“Your sentiment is noble, sir,” he said; “I only regret 
that a youthful soldier should so far be misled by loyalty 
as to lend himself to the purposes of deceit.” 

“Deceit!” echoed Wharton; “I thought it prudent to 30 
guard against capture from my enemies.” 

“A soldier. Captain Wharton, should never meet his 
enemy but openly, and with arms in his hands. I have 
served two kings of England, as I now serve my native land; 
but never did I approach a foe, unless under the light of 35 
the sun, and with honest notice that an enemy was nigh.” 

“You are at liberty to explain what your motives were 
in entering the ground held by our army in disguise,” said 
the other judge, with a slight movement of the muscles of 
his mouth. ^ 4° 

“I am the son of this aged man before you,” continued 


302 


THE SPY 


Henry. ^‘It was to visit him that I encountered the dan- ji 
ger. Besides, the country below is seldom held by your 
troops, and its very name implies a right to either party , 
to move at pleasure over its territory.’’ 

5 ‘‘Its name, as a neutral ground, is unauthorised by law; ^ 
it is an appellation that originates with the condition of i 
the country. But wherever an army goes, it carries its ■' 
rights along, and the first is, the ability to protect itself.” 

“I am no casuist, sir,” returned the youth; “but I feel 
lo that my father is entitled to my affection, and I would ■ 
encounter greater risks to prove it to him in his old age.” 

“A very commendable spirit,” cried the veteran; “come, 
gentlemen, this business brightens. I confess, at first, it 
was very bad; but no man can censure him for desiring i 
15 to see his parents.” 

“And have you proof that such only was your inten- 1 
tion?” f 

“Yes — here,” said Henry, admitting a ray of hope; 
“here is proof — my father, my sister. Major Dunwoodie, 1 
20 all know it.” 

“Then, indeed,” returned his immovable judge, “we i' 
may be able to save you. It would be well, sir, to examine 
further into this business.” 

“Certainly,” said the president, with alacrity; “let the i 
25 elder Mr. Wharton approach and take the oath.” 

The father made an effort at composure, and, advancing i 
with a feeble step, he complied with the necessary forms 
of the court. 

“You are the father of the prisoner?” said Colonel : 
30 Singleton, in a subdued voice, after pausing a moment in ! 
respect for the agitation of the witness. 

“He is my only son.” 

“And what do you know of his visit to your house, on 
the 29th day of October last?” ; 

35 “He came, as he told you, to see me and his sisters.” 

“Was he in disguise?” asked the other judge. 

“He did not wear the uniform of the 60th.” ; 

“To see his sisters, too!” said the president with great i 
emotion. “ Have you daughters, sir ? ” 

40 “I have two — both are in this house.” ■ 

“Had he a wig?” interrupted the officer. ! 


‘‘There was some such thing, I do believe, upon his 
head.” 

■i “And how long had you been separated?’’ asked the 
I president. 

ii “One year and two months.” 5 

j “Did he wear a loose great-coat of coarse materials?” 
j inquired the officer, referring to the paper that contained 
I the charges. 

“There was an over-coat.” 

“And you think that it was to see you, only, that he lo 
came out?” 

“Me, and my daughters.” 

“A boy of spirit,” whispered the president to his silent 
; comrade. “I see but little harm in such a freak; ’twas 
imprudent, but then it was kind.” 15 

^ “Do you know that your son was intrusted with no 
commission from Sir Henry Clinton, and that the visit to 
; you was not merely a cloak to other designs ? ” 

“How can I know it?” said Mr. Wharton, in alarm; 

! “would Sir Henry intrust me with such a business?” 20 

“Know you any thing of this pass?” exhibiting the 
paper that Dunwoodie had retained when Wharton was 
taken. 

“Nothing — upon my honour, nothing,” cried the father, 
shrinking from the paper as from contagion. ' 25 

“On your oath ?” 

“Nothing.” 

“ Have you other testimony ? — this does not avail you. 
Captain Wharton. You have been taken in a situation 
where your life is forfeited; the labour of proving your 30 
innocence rests with yourself. Take time to reflect, and 
be cool.” 

There was a frightful calmness in the manner of this 
judge that appalled the prisoner. In the sympathy of 
Colonel Singleton, he could easily lose sight of his danger; 35 
but the obdurate and collected air of the others was omi- 
nous of his fate. He continued silent, casting imploring 
glances towards his friend. Dunwoodie understood the 
appeal, and offered himself as a witness. He was sworn, 
and desired to relate what he knew. His statement did 40 
not materially alter the case, and Dunwoodie felt that it 


304 


THE SPY 


could not. To him personally but little was known, and 
that little rather militated against the safety of Henry 
than otherwise. His account was listened to in silence, 
and the significant shake of the head that was made by 
5 the silent member spoke too plainly what effect it had 
produced. 

‘‘Still you think that the prisoner had no other object 
than what he has avowed?” said the president, when he 
had ended. 

lo “None other, I will pledge my life,” cried the major, 
with fervour. 

“Will you swear it?” asked the immovable judge. 

“How can I? God alone can tell the heart; but I have 
known this gentleman from a boy; deceit never formed 
15 part of his character. He is above it.” 

“You say that he escaped, and was retaken in open 
arms?” said the president. 

“He was; nay, he received a wound in the combat. 
You see he yet moves his arm with difficulty. Would he, 

20 think you, sir, have trusted himself where he ‘could fall 
again into our hands, unless conscious of innocence?” 

“Would Andre have deserted a field of battle. Major 
Dunwoodie, had he encountered such an event, near Tarry- 
town?” asked his deliberate examiner. “Is it not natural 
25 to youth to seek glory?” 

“Do you call this glory?” exclaimed the major; “an 
ignominious death, and a tarnished name.” 

“Major Dunwoodie,” returned the other, still with in- 
veterate gravity, “you have acted nobly; your duty has 
30 been arduous and severe, but it has been faithfully and 
honourably discharged; ours must not be less so.” 

During the examination, the most intense interest pre- 
vailed among the hearers. With that kind of feeling which 
could not separate the principle from the cause, most of 
35 the auditors thought that if Dunwoodie failed to move ’ 
the hearts of Henry’s judges, no other possessed the power. 
CjEsar thrust his misshapen form forward ; and his features, 
so expressive of the concern he felt, and so different from 
the vacant curiosity pictured in the conntenances of the 
40 other blacks, caught the attention of the silent judge. 
For the first time he spoke — 


THE SPY 


305 


‘‘Let that black be brought forward.’’ 

: It was too late to retreat, and Caesar found himself con- 
: fronted with a row of rebel officers, before he knew what 
was uppermost in his thoughts. The others yielded the 
! examination to the one who suggested it, and using all 5 
due deliberation, he proceeded accordingly. 

“You know the prisoner?” 

' “I tink he ought,” returned the black, in a manner as 
I sententious as that of his examiner. 

“Did he give you the wig, when he threw it aside?” 10 
, “I don’t want ’em,” grumbled Caesar; “got a berry good 
hair he’self.” 

] “Were you employed in carrying any letters or messages 
I while Captain Wharton was in your master’s house?” 

; “I do what a tell me,’^ returned the black. 15 

“But what did they tell you to do?” 

“Sometime a one ting — sometime anoder.” 

; “Enough,” said Colonel Singleton, with dignity; “you 
have the noble acknowledgment of a gentleman, what more 
can you obtain from this slave ? Captain Wharton, you 20 
! perceive the unfortunate impression against you. Have 
I you other testimony to adduce?” 

I To Henry there now remained but little hope; his confi- 
I dence in his security was fast ebbing, but with an indefinite 
expectation of assistance from the loveliness of his sister, 25 
he fixed an earnest gaze on the pallid features of Frances. 
She arose, and with a tottering step moved towards the 
judges; the paleness of her cheek continued but for a 
moment, and gave place to a flush of fire, and with a light, 
but firm tread, she stood before them. Raising her hand 30 
to her polished forehead, Frances threw aside her exuberant 
locks, and displayed a picture of beauty and innocence to 
their view that might have moved even sterner natures. 
The president shrouded his eyes for a moment, as if the wild 
eye and speaking countenance recalled the image of another. 35 
The movement was transient, and recovering himself, he said, 
with an earnestness that betrayed his secret wishes 

“To you, then, your brother previously communicated 
his intention of paying your family a secret visit?” 

‘<No! — no!” said Frances, pressing her hand on her 4° 
brain, as if to collect her thoughts; “he told me nothing 


306 


THE SPY 


— we knew not of the visit until he arrived ; but can it be 
necessary to explain to gallant men, that a child would 
incur hazard to meet his only parent, and that in times 
like these, and in a situation like ours?” 

5 X “But was this the first time? Did he never even talk 
of doing so before?” enquired the Colonel, leaning towards 
her with paternal interest. 

“Certainly — certainly,” cried Frances, catching the 
'expression of his own benevolent countenance. “This is 
lo but the fourth of his visits.” 

“I knew it!” exclaimed the veteran, rubbing his hands 
with delight; “an adventurous, warm-hearted son — I 
warrant me, gentlemen, a fiery soldier in the field 1 In 
what disguises did he come?” 

15 “In none, for none were then necessary; the royal 
troops covered the country, and gave him safe passage.” 

“And was this the first of his visits out of the uniform 
of his regiment?” asked the Colonel, in a suppressed voice, 
avoiding the penetrating looks of his companions. 

20 “Oh! the very first,” exclaimed the eager girl; “his 
first offence, I do assure you, if offence it be.” 

“But you wrote him — you urged the visit; surely, 
young lady, you wished to see your brother?” added the 
impatient Colonel. 

25 “That we wished it, and prayed for it, — oh, how fer- 
vently we prayed for it ! — is true ; but to have held 
communion with the royal army would have endangered 
our father, and we dared not.” 

“Did he leave the house until taken, or had he inter- 
30 course with any out of your own dwelling?” 

“With none — no one, excepting our neighbour, the 
pedler Birch.” 

“With whom?” exclaimed the Colonel, turning pale, and 
shrinking as from the sting of an adder. 

35 Dunwoodie groaned aloud, and striking his head with 
his hand, cried, in piercing tones, “He is lost !” and rushed 
from the apartment. 

“But Harvey Birch,” repeated Frances, gazing wildly 
at the door through which her lover had disappeared. 

40 “Harvey Birch!” echoed all the judges. The two im- 
movable members of the court exchanged looks, and threw 
an inquisitive glance at their prisoner. 


THE SPY 


307 


j “To you, gentlemen, it can be no new intelligence to hear 
that Harvey Birch is suspected of favouring the royal 
I cause,” said Henry, again advancing before the judges; 
“for he has already been condemned by your tribunals to 
the fate that I now see awaits myself. I will therefore 5 
explain, that it was by his assistance I procured the dis- 
guise, and passed your pickets ; but? to my dying moment, 

I and with my dying breath, I will avow, that my intentions 
were as pure as the innocent being before you.” 

“Captain Wharton,” said the president, solemnly, “the 10 
enemies of American liberty have made mighty and subtle 
‘ efforts to overthrow our power. A more dangerous man, 
for his means and education, is not ranked among our 
foes than this pedler of West-Chester. He is a spy — art- 
ful, delusive, and penetrating, beyond the abilities of any 15 
of his class. Sir Henry could not do better than to asso- 
ciate him with the officer in his next attempt. He would 
have saved Andre. Indeed, young man, this is a connex- 
ion that may prove fatal to you !” 

The honest indignation that beamed on the countenance 20 
of the aged warrior, was met by a look of perfect convic- 
tion on the part of his comrades. 

“I have ruined him!” cried Frances, clasping her hands 
in terror; “do you desert us? then he is lost, indeed!” 

“ Forbear ! — lovely innocent — forbear ! ” said the 2 5 
Colonel, with strong emotion; “you injure none, but dis- 
tress us all.” 

“Is it then such a crime to possess natural affection?” 
said Frances, wildly; “would Washington — the noble, 
upright, impartial Washington, judge so harshly ? delay, 3° 
till Washington can hear his tale.” 

“It is impossible,” said the president, covering his eyes, 
as if to hide her beauty from his view. 

“Impossible! oh! but for a week suspend your judg- 
ment. On my knees I entreat you, as you will expect 35 
mercy yourself, when no human power can avail you, give 
him but a day.” 

“It is impossible,” repeated the Colonel, in a voice that 
was nearly choked; “our orders are peremptory, and too 
long delay has been given already.” 4 ° 

He turned from the kneeling suppliant, but could not, or 


308 


THE SPY 


would not, extricate the hand that she grasped with frenzied 
fervour. 

“Remand your prisoner,” said one of the judges to the 
officer who had the charge of Henry. “Colonel Singleton, 
5 shall we withdraw?” 

“Singleton! Singleton!” echoed Frances; “then you 
are a father, and know how to pity a father’s woes: you 
cannot, will not, wound a heart that is now nearly crushed. 
Hear me. Colonel Singleton; as God will listen to your 
lo dying prayers, hear me, and spare my brother !” 

“Remove her,” said the Colonel, gently endeavouring to 
extricate his hand; but none appeared disposed to obey. 
Frances eagerly strove to read the expression of his averted 
face, and resisted all his efforts to retire. 

15 “Colonel Singleton! how lately was your own son in 
suffering and in danger ! under the roof of my father he 
was cherished — under my father’s roof he found shelter 
and protection. Oh ! suppose that son the pride of your 
age, the solace and protection of your infant children, and 
20 then pronounce my brother guilty, if you dare !” 

“ What right has Heath® to make an executioner of 
me!” exclaimed the veteran fiercely, rising with a face 
flushed like fire, and every vein and artery swollen with 
suppressed emotion. “But I forget myself; come, gentle- 
25 men, let us mount; our painful duty must be done.” 

“Mount not! go not!” shrieked Frances; “can you tear 
a son from his parent ? a brother from his sister, so coldly ? 
Is this the cause I have so ardently loved ? Are these the 
men that I have been taught to reverence ? But you 
30 relent, you do hear me, you will pity and forgive.” 

“Lead on, gentlemen,” said the Colonel, motioning 
towards the door, and erecting himself into an air of mili- 
tary grandeur, in the vain hope of quieting his feelings. 

“Lead not on, but hear me,” cried Frances, grasping 
35 his hand convulsively ; “ Colonel Singleton, you are a father ! 
— pity — mercy — mercy for the son ! mercy for the 
daughter ! Yes — you had a daughter. On this bosom 
she poured out her last breath; these hands closed her 
eyes; these very hands, that are now clasped in prayer, 
40 did those offices for her that you condemn my poor, poor 
brother, to require.” 


THE SPY 


309 


One mighty emotion the veteran struggled with, and 
quelled; but with a groan that shook his whole frame. 
He even looked around in conscious pride at his victory; 
but a second burst of feeling conqtrered. His head, white 
with the frost of seventy winters, sunk upon the shoulder s 
of the frantic suppliant. The sword that had been his 
companion in so many fields of blood dropped from his 
nerveless hand, and as he cried — 

“May God bless you for the deed !” he wept aloud. 

Long and violent was the indulgence that Colonel Single- lo 
ton yielded to his feelings. On recovering, he gave the 
senseless Frances into the arms of her aunt, and, turning 
with an air of fortitude to his comrades, he said — 

“Still, gentlemen, we have our duty as officers to dis- 
charge; — our feelings as men may be indulged hereafter, is 
What is your pleasure with the prisoner?” 

One of the judges placed in his hand a written sentence, 
that he had prepared while the Colonel was engaged with 
Frances, and declared it to be the opinion of himself and 
his companion. 20 

It briefly stated that Henry Wharton had been detected 
in passing the lines of the American army as a spy, and in 
disguise. That thereby, according to the laws of war, he 
was liable to suffer death, and that this court adjudged 
him to the penalty; recommending him to be executed by 25 
hanging, before nine o’clock on the following morning. 

It was not usual to inflict capital punishments, even on 
the enemy, without referring the case to the commander- 
in-chief, for his approbation; or, in his absence, to the 
officer commanding for the time being. But, as Wash- 30 
ington held his head-quarters at New- Windsor, on the 
western bank of the Hudson, sufficient time was yet before 
them to receive his answer. 

“This is short notice,” said the veteran, holding the pen 
in his hand, in a suspense that had no object; “not a day 35 
to fit one so young for heaven?” 

“The royal officers gave Hale° but an hour,” returned 
his comrade; “we have granted the usual time. But 
Washington has the power to extend it, or to pardon.” 

“Then to Washington will I go,” cried the Colonel, 40 
returning the paper with his signature; “and if the services 


310 


THE SPY 


of an old man like me, or that brave boy of mine, entitle 
me to his ear, I will yet save the youth.” 

So saying, he departed, full of his generous intentions in 
favour of Henry Wharton. 

5 The sentence of the court was communicated, with proper 
tenderness, to the prisoner; and after giving a few neces- 
sary instructions to the officer in command, and despatch- 
ing a courier to head-quarters with their report, the re- 
maining judges mounted, and rode to their own quarters, 
lo with the same unmoved exterior, but with the consciousness 
of the same dispassionate integrity, that they had main- 
tained throughout the trial. 


CHAPTER XXVII 


Have you no countermand for Claudio yet? 

But he must die to-morrow? 

Measure for Measure. 

A FEW hours were passed by the prisoner, after his sen- 
tence was received, in the bosom of his family. Mr. Whar- 
ton wept in hopeless despondency over the untimely fate 
of his son; and Frances, after recovering from her insen- 
sibility, experienced an anguish of feeling to which the 5 
bitterness of death itself would have been comparatively 
light. Miss Peyton alone retained a vestige of hope, or 
presence of mind to suggest what might be proper to be 
done under their circumstances. The comparative com- 
posure of the good aunt arose in no degree from any want lo 
of interest in the welfare of her nephew, but it was founded 
in a kind of instinctive dependence on the character of 
Washington. He was a native of the same colony with 
herself; and although his early military services, and her 
frequent visits to the family of her sister, and subsequent 15 
establishment at its head, had prevented their ever meet- 
ing, still she was familiar with his domestic virtues, and 
well knew that the rigid inflexibility for which his public 
acts were distinguished formed no part of his reputation in 
private life. He was known in Virginia as a consistent, 20 
but just and lenient master; and she felt a kind of pride 
in associating in her mind her countryman with the man 
who led the armies, and in a great measure controlled the 
destinies, of America. She knew that Henry was inno- 
cent of the crime for which he was condemned to suffer, 25 
and, with that kind of simple faith that is ever to be found 
in the most ingenuous characters, could not conceive of 
those constructions and interpretations of law that^ in- 
flicted punishment without the actual existence of crime. 
But even her confiding hopes were doomed to meet with a 30 

311 


312 


THE SPY 


speedy termination. Towards noon, a regiment of militia, 
that was quartered on the banks of the river, moved up 
to the ground in front of the house that held our heroine 
and her family, and deliberately pitched their tents, with 
5 the avowed intention of remaining until the following 
morning, to give solemnity and effect to the execution of 
a British spy. 

Dunwoodie had performed all that was required of him 
by his orders, and was at liberty to retrace his steps to his 
lo expecting squadron, v hich was impatiently waiting his 
return, to be led against a detachment of the enemy, that 
was known to be slowly moving up the banks of the river, 
in order to cover a party of foragers in its rear. He was 
accompanied by a small party of Lawton’s troop, under 
15 the expectation that their testimony might be required to 
convict the prisoner; and Mason, the lieutenant, was in 
command. But the confession of Captain Wharton had 
removed the necessity of examining any witnesses on be- 
half of the people.® The Major, from an unwillingness to 
20 encounter the distress of Henry’s friends, and a dread of 
trusting himself within its influence, had spent the time 
we have mentioned in walking by himself, in keen anxiety, 
at a short distance from the dwelling. Like Miss Peyton, 
he had some reliance on the mercy of Washington, although 
25 moments of terrific doubt and despondency were continu- 
ally crossing his mind. To him the rules of service wore 
familiar, and he was more accustomed to consider his 
general in the capacity of a ruler, than as exhibiting the 
characteristics of the individual. A dreadful instance had 
30 too recently occurred, which fully proved that Washington 
was above the weakness of sparing another in mercy to 
himself. While pacing, with hurried steps, through the 
orchard, labouring under these constantly recurring doubts, 
enlivened by transient rays of hope. Mason approached, 
35 accoutred completely for the saddle. 

‘‘Thinking you might have forgotten the news brought 
this morning from below, sir, I have taken the liberty to 
order the detachment under arms,” said the Lieutenant, 
very coolly, cutting down with his sheathed sabre the 
40 mullen tops that grew within his reach. 

“What news?” cried the Major, starting. 


THE SPY 


313 


‘‘Only that John Bull is out in West-Chester, with a 
train of waggons, which if he fills, will compel us to retire 
through these cursed hills, in search of provender. These 
greedy Englishmen are so shut up on York Island, that 
when they do venture out, they seldom leave straw enough 5 
to furnish the bed of a Yankee heiress.” 

“Where did the express leave them, did you say? The 
intelligence has entirely escaped my memory.” 

“On the heights above Sing-Sing,” ° returned the Lieu- 
tenant, with no little amazement. “The road below looks 10 
like a hay-market, and all the swine are sighing forth their 
lamentations, as the corn passes them towards Kingsbridge. 
George Singleton’s orderly, who brought up the tidings, 
says that our horses were holding consultation if they 
should not go down without their riders, and eat another 15 
meal, for it is questionable with them whether they can 
get a full stomach again. If they are suffered to get back 
with their plunder, we shall not be able to find a piece of 
pork at Christmas fat enough to fry itself.” 

“ Peace, with all this nonsense of Singleton’s orderly, 20 
Mr. Mason,” cried Dunwoodie, impatiently; “let him learn 
to wait the orders of his superiors.” 

“I beg pardon in his name, Major Dunwoodie,” said the 
subaltern; “but, like myself, he was in error. We both 
thought it was the order of General Heath, to attack and 25 
molest the enemy whenever he ventured out of his nest.” 

“Recollect yourself. Lieutenant Mason,” said the Major, 
“or I may have to teach you that your orders pass through 
me.” 

“I know it. Major Dunwoodie — I know it; and I am 3° 
sorry that your memory is so bad as to forget that I never 
have yet hesitated to obey them.” 

“Forgive me. Mason,” cried Dunwoodie, taking both his. 
hands; “I do know you for a brave and obedient soldier; 
forget my humour. But this business — Had you ever a 35 
friend?” 

“Nay, nay,” interrupted the Lieutenant; “forgive me 
and my honest zeal. I knew of the orders, and was fearful 
that censure might fall on my officer. But remain, and 
let a man breathe a syllable against the corps, and every 40 
sword will start from the scabbard of itself ; besides, they 


314 


THE SPY 


are still moving up, and it is a long road from Croton to 
Kingsbridge. Happen what may, I see plainly that we 
shall be on their heels before they are housed again.’’ 

“ Oh ! that the courier was returned from head-quarters !” 

5 exclaimed Dunwoodie. ‘^This suspense is insupportable.” 

“You have your wish,” cried Mason; “here he is at the 
moment, and riding like the bearer of good news. God 
send it may be so; for I can’t say that I particularly like 
myself to see a brave young fellow dancing upon nothing.”® 
lo Dunwoodie heard but very little of this feeling declara- 
tion; for, ere half of it was uttered, he had leaped the 
fence, and stood before the messenger. 

“What news?” cried the Major, the moment that the 
soldier stopped his horse. 

15 “Good!” exclaimed the man; and feeling no hesitation 
to intrust an officer so well known as Major Dunwoodie, 
he placed the paper in his hands, as he added, “but you 
can read it, sir, for yourself.” 

Dunwoodie paused not to read ; but flew, with the elastic 
20 spring of joy, to the chamber of the prisoner. The sentinel 
knew him, and he was suffered to pass without question. 

“Oh! Peyton,” cried Frances, as he entered the apart- 
ment, “you look like a messenger from heaven I bring you 
tidings of mercy?” 

25 “Here, Frances — here, Henry — here, dear cousin 
Jeanette,” cried the youth, as with trembling hands he 
broke the seal; “here is the letter itself, directed to the 
captain of the guard. But listen — ” 

All did listen with intense anxiety; and the pang of 
30 blasted hope was added to their misery, as they saw the 
glow of delight which had beamed on the countenance of 
the Major give place to a look of horror. The paper con- 
tained the sentence of the court, and underneath was 
written these simple words — 

35 “ Approved — Geo. Washington.” 

“He’s lost, he’s lost!” cried Frances, sinking into the 
arms of her aunt. 

“ My son ! my son !” sobbed the father, “ there is mercy in 
heaven, if there is none on earth. May Washington never 
40 want that mercy he thus denies to my innocent child ” 

“Washington!” echoed Dunwoodie, gazing around him 


THE SPY 


315 


1 in vacant horror, ’tis the act of Washington him- 

self; these are his characters; his very name is here, to 
sanction the dreadful deed.” 

i “Cruel, cruel Washington!” cried Miss Peyton; “how 
has familiarity with blood changed his nature!” 5 

“Blame him not,” said Dunwoodie; “it is the general, 
and not the man; my life on it, he feels the blow he is 
compelled to inflict.” 

“I have been deceived in him,” cried Frances. “He is 
not the saviour of his country; but a cold and merciless 10 
tyrant. Oh! Peyton, Peyton! how have you misled me 
in his character ! ” 

“Peace, dear Frances; peace for God’s sake; use not 
1 such language. He is but the guardian of the law.” 

P “You speak the truth, Major Dunwoodie,” said Henry, 15 
recovering from the shock of having his last ray of hope 
extinguished, and advancing from his seat by the side of 
his father. “I, who am to suffer, blame him not. Every 
indulgence has been granted me that I can ask. On the 
verge of the grave, I cannot continue unjust. At such a 20 
moment, with so recent an instance of danger to your 
cause from treason, I wonder not at Washington’s unbend- 
ing justice. Nothing now remains but to prepare for that 
fate which so speedily awaits me. To you. Major Dun- 
woodie, I make my first request.” 25 

“Name it,” said the major, giving utterance with diffi- 
culty. 

Henry turned, and pointing to the group of weeping 
mourners near him, he continued — 

“Be a son to this aged man; help his weakness, and 30 
defend him from any usage to which the stigma thrown 
upon me may subject him. He has not many friends 
amongst the rulers of this country; let your powerful 
name be found among them.” 

“It shall.” 35 

“And this helpless innocent,” continued Henry, point- 
ing to where Sarah sat, unconscious of what was passing, 

— “ I had hoped for an opportunity to revenge her wrongs; ” 
a flush of excitement passed over his features; “but such 
thoughts are evil — I feel them to be wrong. Under your 40 
care, Peyton, she will find sympathy and refuge.” 


316 


THE SPY 


“She shall/' whispered Dunwoodie. 

“This good aunt has claims upon you already; of her I 
will not speak : but here/’ taking the hand of Frances, and 
dwelling upon her countenance with an expression of fra- 
5 ternal affection — “here is the choicest gift of all. Take 
her to your bosom, and cherish her as you would cultivate 
innocence and virtue.” 

The major could not repress the eagerness with which 
he extended his hand to receive the precious boon; but 
lo Frances, shrinking from his touch, hid her face in the 
bosom of her aunt. 

“No, no, no!” she murmured; “none can ever be any 
thing to me who aid in my brother’s destruction.” 

Henry continued gazing at her in tender pity for several 
IS moments, before he again resumed a discourse that all felt 
was most peculiarly his own. 

“I have been mistaken, then. I did think, Peyton, 
that your worth, your noble devotion to a cause that you 
have been taught to revere, that your kindness to our father 
20 when in imprisonment, your friendship for me, — in short, 
that your character was understood and valued by my 
sister.” 

“It is — it is,” whispered Frances, burying her face still 
deeper in the bosom of her aunt. 

25 “I believe, dear Henry,” said Dunwoodie, “this is a 
subject that had better not be dwelt upon now.” 

“You forget,” returned the prisoner, with a faint smile, 
“how much I have to do, and how little time is left to do 
it in.” 

30 “I apprehend,” continued the Major, with a face of fire, 
“that Miss Wharton has imbibed some opinions of me that 
would make a compliance with your request irksome to 
her — opinions that it is now too late to alter.” 

“No, no, no,” cried Frances, quickly; “you are ex- 
35 onerated, Peyton — with her dying breath she removed 
my doubts.” 

“ Generous Isabella ! ” murmured Dunwoodie; “but still, 
Henry, spare your sister now; nay, spare even me.” 

“I speak in pity to myself,” returned the brother, gently 
40 removing Frances from the arms of her aunt. “What a 
time is this to leave two such lovely females without a 


THE SPY 


317 


j 

' protector ! — Their abode is destroyed, and misery will 
speedily deprive them of their last male friend,” looking 
at his father; “can I die in peace with the knowledge of 
the danger to which they will be exposed?” 

“You forget me,” said Miss Peyton, shrinking at the 5 
idea of celebrating nuptials at such a moment. 

“No, my dear aunt, I forget you not, nor shall I, until 
I cease to remember; but you forget the times and the 
j danger. The good woman who lives in this house has 
I already despatched a messenger for a man of God, to 10 
! smooth my passage to another world. — Frances, if you 
would wish me to die in peace, to feel a security that will 
allow me to turn my whole thoughts to heaven, you will 
let this clergyman unite you to Dunwoodie.” 

Frances shook her head, but remained silent. 15 

“I ask for no joy — no demonstration of a felicity that 
you will not, cannot feel, for months to come; but obtain 
a right to his powerful name — give him an undisputed 
title to protect you — ” 

Again the maid made an impressive gesture of denial. 20 

“For the sake of that unconscious sufferer — ” pointing 
to Sarah, “for your sake — for my sake — my sister — ” 

“Peace, Henry, or you will break my heart,” cried the 
agitated girl; “not for worlds would I at such a moment 
engage in the solemn vows that you wish. It would render 25 
me miserable for life.” 

“You love him not,” said Henry, reproachfully. “I 
cease to importune you to do what is against your inclina- 
tions.” 

Frances raised one hand to conceal her countenance, as 3° 
she extended the other towards Dunwoodie, and said 
earnestly — 

“Now you are unjust to me — before, you were unjust 
to yourself.” 

“Promise me, then,” said Wharton, musing awhile in 35 
silence, “that as soon as the recollection of my fate is 
softened, you will give my friend that hand for life, and I 
am satisfied.” 

“I do promise,” said Frances, withdrawing the hand 
that Dunwoodie delicately relinquished, without even pre- 4 ° 
suming to press it to his lips. 


318 


THE SPY 


“Well, then, my good aunt,” continued Henry, “will 
you leave me for a short time alone with my friend ? I 
have a few melancholy commissions with which to intrust 
him, and would spare you and my sister the pain of hearing 
5 them.” 

“There is yet time to see Washington again,” said Miss 
Peyton, moving towards the door; and then, speaking 
with extreme dignity, she continued — “I will go myself; 
surely he must listen to a woman from his own colony ! — 
lo and we are in some degree connected with his family.” 

“Why not apply to Mr. Harper?” said Frances, recol- 
lecting the parting words of their guest for the first time. 

“Harper!” echoed Dunwoodie, turning towards her 
with the swiftness of lightning; “what of him? do you 
15 know him?” 

“It is in vain,” said Henry, drawing him aside; “ Frances 
clings to hope with the fondness of a sister. Retire, my 
love, and leave me with my friend.” 

But Frances read an expression in the eye of Dunwoodie 
20 that chained her to the spot. After struggling to com- 
mand her feelings, she continued — 

“ He stayed with us for two days — he was with us 
when Henry was arrested.” 

“ And — and — did you know him ? ” 

25 “Nay,” continued Frances, catching her breath as she 
witnessed the intense interest of her lover, “we knew him 
not; he came to us in the night, a stranger, and remained • 
with us during the severe storm ; but he seemed to take an 
interest in Henry, and promised him his friendship.” 

30 “What!” exclaimed the youth, in astonishment; “did 
he know your brother?” 

“Certainly; — it was at his request that Henry threw 
aside his disguise.” 

“But,” said Dunwoodie, turning pale with suspense,. 
35 “he knew him not as an officer of the royal army?” 

“Indeed he did,” cried Miss Peyton; “and he cautioned 
us against this very danger.” 

Dunwoodie caught up the fatal paper, that still lay 
where it had fallen from his own hands, and studied its 
40 characters intently. Something seemed to bewilder his 
brain. He passed his hand over his forehead, while each 


THE SPY 


319 


eye was fixed on him in dreadful suspense — all feeling 
afraid to admit those hopes anew that had once been so 
sadly destroyed. 

“What said he? what promised he?’' at length Dun- 
woodie asked, with feverish impatience. 5 

“ He bid Henry apply to him when in danger, and 
promised to requite the son for the hospitality of the 
father.” 

“Said he this, knowing him to be a British officer?” 

“Most certainly; and with a view to this very danger.” lo 
“Then,” cried the youth aloud, and yielding to his rap- 
ture, “then you are safe — then will I save him; yes, 
Harper will never forget his word.” 

“But has he the power?” said Frances; “can he move 
the stubborn purpose of Washington?” 15 

“Can he! If he cannot,” shouted the youth, “if he 
cannot, who can? — Greene, and Heath, and young Hamil- 
ton, are nothing, compared to this Harper. But,” rushing 
to his mistress, and pressing her hands convulsively, “re- 
peat to me — you say you have his promise ? ” 20 

“ Surely, surely, Peyton ; — his solemn, deliberate promise, 
knowing all of the circumstances.” 

“Rest easy,” cried Dunwoodie, holding her to his bosom 
for a moment, “rest easy, for Henry is safe.” 

He waited not to explain, but darting from the room, 25 
he left the family in amazement. They continued in silent 
wonder until they heard the feet of his charger, as he dashed 
from the door with the speed of an arrow. 

A long time was spent after this abrupt departure of 
the youth, by the anxious friends he had left, in discussing 30 
the probability of his success. The confidence of his man- 
ner had, however, communicated to his auditors some- 
thing of his own spirit. Each felt that the prospects of 
Henry were again brightening, and with their reviving 
hopes they experienced a renewal of spirits, which in all 35 
but Henry himself amounted to pleasure: with him, in- 
deed, his state was too awful to admit of trifling, and for a 
few hours he was condemned to feel how much more in- 
tolerable was suspense than even the certainty of calamity. 
Not so with Frances. She, with all the reliance of affection, 40 
reposed in security on the assurance of Dunwoodie, with- 


320 


THE SPY 


out harassing herself with doubts that she possessed not 
the means of satisfying; but believing her lover able to 
accomplish every thing that man could do, and retaining 
a vivid recollection of the manner and benevolent appear- 
5 ance of Harper, she abandoned herself to all the felicity of 
renovated hope. 

The joy of Miss Peyton was more sobered, and she took 
frequent occasions to reprove her niece for the exuberance 
of her spirits, before there was a certainty that their ex- 
lo pectations were to be realised. But the slight. smile that 
hovered around the lips of the virgin contradicted the very 
sobriety of feeling that she inculcated. 

“Why, dearest aunt,” said Frances, playfully, in reply 
to one of her frequent reprimands, “would you have me 
15 repress the pleasure that I feel at Henry’s deliverance, 
when you yourself have so often declared it to be impossi- 
ble that such men as ruled in our country could sacrifice 
an innocent man?” 

“ Nay, I did believe it impossible, my child, and yet 
20 think so; but still there is a discretion to be shown in joy 
as well as in sorrow.” 

Frances recollected the declaration of Isabella, and 
turned an eye filled with tears of gratitude on her excellent 
aunt, as she replied — 

25 “True: but there are feelings that will not yield to 
reason. Ah ! here are those monsters, who have come I,o 
witness the death of a fellow-creature, moving around yon 
field, as if life was, to them, nothing but a military show.” 

“It is but little more to the hireling soldier,” said Henry, 
30 endeavouring to forget his uneasiness. 

“You gaze, my love, as if you thought a military show 
of some importance,” said Miss Peyton, observing her 
niece to be looking from the window with a fixed and ab- 
stracted attention. But Frances answered not. 

35 From the window where she stood, the pass that they 
had travelled through the Highlands was easily to be seen; 
and the mountain which held on its summit the mysterious 
hut was directly before her. Its side was rugged and 
barren; huge and apparently impassable barriers of rocks 
40 presenting themselves through the stunted oaks, which, 
stripped of their foliage, were scattered over its surface. 


THE SPY 


321 


The base of the hill was not half a mile from the house, 
and the object which attracted the notice of Frances, was 
the figure of a man emerging from behind a rock of re- 
markable formation, and as suddenly disappearing. This 
manoeuvre was several times repeated, as if it were the 5 
intention of the fugitive (for such by his air he seemed to 
be) to reconnoitre the proceedings of the soldiery, and 
lassure himself of the position of things on the plain. Not- 
withstanding the distance, Frances instantly imbibed the 
opinion that it was Birch. Perhaps this impression was 10 
partly owing to the air and figure of the man, but in a 
great measure to the idea that presented itself on formerly 
beholding the object at the summit of the mountain. That 
they were the same figure she was confident, although this 
wanted the appearance which, in the other, she had taken 15 
for the pack of the pedler. Harvey had so connected him- 
self with the mysterious deportment of Harper, within her 
imagination, that, under circumstances of less agitation 
than those in which she had laboured since her arrival, she 
would have kept her suspicions to herself. Frances, there- 20 
fore, sat ruminating on this second appearance in silence, 
and endeavouring to trace what possible connection this 
extraordinary man could have with the fortunes of her 
own family. He had certainly saved Sarah, in some de- 
gree, from the blow that had partially alighted on her, 25 
and in no instance had he proved himself to be hostile to 
their interests. 

After gazing for a long time at the point where she had 
last seen the figure, in the vain expectation of its re-ap- 
pearance, she turned to her friends in the apartment. Miss 30 
Peyton was sitting by Sarah, who gave some slight addi- 
tional signs of observing what passed, but who still con- 
tinued insensible either to joy or grief. 

suppose, by this time, my love, that you are well 
acquainted with the manoeuvres of a regiment,” said Miss 35 
Peyton; ‘4t is no bad quality in a soldier’s wife, at all 
events.” 

‘‘I am not a wife yet,” said Frances, colouring to the 
eyes; “and we have little reason to wish for another wed- 
ding in our family.” ^ 4° 

“Frances !” exclaimed her brother, starting from his seat, 


322 


THE SPY 


and pacing the floor in violent agitation, “touch not the 
chord again, I entreat you. While my fate is uncertain, 
I would wish to be at peace with all men.” 

“Then let the uncertainty cease,” cried Frances, springing 
5 to the door, “for here comes Peyton with the joyful intelli- 
gence of your release.” 

The words were hardly uttered, before the door opened, 
and the Major entered. In his air there was the appearance 
of neither success, nor defeat, but there was a marked dis- 
lo play of vexation. He took the hand that Frances, in the 
fulness of her heart, extended towards him, but instantly 
relinquishing it, threw himself into a chair, in evident fa- 
tigue. 

“You have failed,” said Wharton, with a bound of his 
15 heart, but an appearance of composure. 

“Have you seen Harper?” cried Frances, turning pale. 

“I have not; I crossed the river in one boat as he must 
have been coming to this side, in another. I returned with- 
out delay, and traced him for several miles into the High- 
20 lands, by the western pass, but there I unaccountably lost 
him. I have returned here to relieve your uneasiness; but 
see him I will this night, and bring a respite for Henry.” 

“But saw you Washington?” asked Miss Peyton. 

Dunwoodie gazed at her a moment in abstracted musing, 
25 and the question was repeated. He answered gravely, 
and with some reserve — 

“The Commander-in-chief had left his quarters.” 

“But, Peyton,” cried Frances, in returning terror, “if 
they should not see each other, it will be too late. Harper 
30 alone will not be sufficient.” 

,Her lover turned his eyes slowly on her anxious counte- 
nance, and dwelling a moment on her features, said, still 
musing — 

“You say that he promised to assist Henry.” 

35 “Certainly, of his own accord, and in requital for the hos- 
pitality he had received.” 

Dunwoodie shook his head, and began to look grave. 

“I like not that word hospitality — it has an empty 
sound; there must be something more reasonable to tie 
40 Harper. I dread some mistake : repeat to me all that 
passed.” 


THE SPY 


323 


Frances, in a hurried and earnest voice, complied with his 
request. She related particularly the manner of his arrival 
at the Locusts, the reception that he received, and the events 
that passed, as minutely as her memory could supply her 
with the means. As she alluded to the conversation that 5 
occurred between her father and his guest, the Major smiled, 
but remained silent. She then gave a detail of Henry’s 
arrival, and the events of the following day. She dwelt 
upon the part where Harper had desired her brother to 
throw aside his disguise, and recounted, with wonderful xo 
accuracy, his remarks upon the hazard of the step that the 
youth had taken. She even remembered a remarkable 
expression of his to her brother, “that he was safer from 
Harper’s knowledge of his pei"son, than he would be without 
it.” Frances mentioned, with the warmth of youthful 15 
admiration, the benevolent character of his deportment to 
herself, and gave a minute relation of his adieus to the 
whole family. 

Dunwoodie at first listened with grave attention; evident 
satisfaction followed as she proceeded. When she spoke 20 
of herself, in connection with their guest, he smiled with 
pleasure, and as she concluded, he exclaimed, with delight — 

“ We are safe ! — we are safe !” 

But he was interrupted, as will be seen in the following 
chapter. 25 


CHAPTER XXVIII 


The owlet loves the gloom of night, 

The lark salutes the day, 

The timid dove will coo at hand — 

But falcons soar away. 

Song in Duo. 

In a country settled, like these states, by a people who 
fled their native land and much-loved firesides, \nctims of 
consciences and religious zeal, none of the decencies and 
solemnities of a Christian death are dispensed with, when 
5 circumstances will admit of their exercise. The good 
woman of the house was a strict adherent to the forms of the 
church to which she belonged; and having herself been 
awakened to a sense of her depravity, by the ministry of 
the divine who harangued the people of the adjoining parish, 
lo she thought it was from his exhortations only that salvation 
could be meted out to the short-lived hopes of Henry 
Wharton. Not that the kind-hearted matron was so ig- 
norant of the doctrines of the religion which she professed, 
as to depend, theoretically, on mortal aid for protection; 
15 but she had, to use her own phrase, “sat so long under the 

preaching of good Mr. that she had unconsciously 

imbibed a practical reliance on his assistance, for that which 
her faith should have taught her could come from the Deity 
alone. With her, the consideration of death was at all times 
20 awful ; and the instant that the sentence ef the prisoner 
was promulgated, she despatched Caesar, mounted on one 
of her husband’s best horses, in quest of her clerical monitor. 
This step had been taken without consulting either Henry 
or his friends; and it was only when the services of Caesar 
25 were required on some domestic emergency, that she ex- 
plained the nature of his absence. The youth heard her, 
at first, with an unconquerable reluctance to admit of such 
a spiritual guide ; but as our view of the things of this life 
becorne^ less vivid, our prejudices and habits cease to retain 
30 their influence ; and a civil bow of thanks was finally given, 

324 


THE SPY 


325 


' in requital for the considerate care of the well-meaning 
i woman. 

I The black returned early from his expedition, and, as 
t well as could be gathered from his somewhat incoherent 
, narrative, a minister of God might be expected to arrive s 
I in the course of the day. The interruption that we men- 
I tioned in our preceding chapter was occasioned by the en- 
I trance of the landlady. At the intercession of Dunwoodie, 
orders had been given to the sentinel who guarded the door 
of Henry’s room, that the members of the prisoner’s family lo 
1 should, at all times, have free access to his apartment: 

I Caesar was included in this arrangement, ^s a matter of con- 
i venience, by the officer in command; but strict enquiry 
and examination was made into the errand of every other 
applicant for admission. The Major had, however, included 15 
j himself among the relatives of the British officer; and one 
I pledge, that no rescue siiould be attempted, was given in 
I his name, for them all. A short conversation was passing 
I between the woman of the house and the corporal of the 
I guard, before the door that the sentinel had already opened 20 
! in anticipation of the decision of his non-commissioned 
1 commandant. 

“ Would you refuse the consolations of religion to a fellow- 
creature about to suffer death?” said the matron, with 
earnest zeal. “Would you plunge a soul into the fiery 25 
furnace, and a minister at hand to point out the strait and 
narrow path ? ” 

“I’ll tell you what, good woman,” returned the Corporal, 
gently pushing her away ; “ I’ve no notion of my back being 
a highway for any man to walk to heaven upon. A pretty 3° 
figure I should make at the pickets, for disobeying orders. 
Just step down and ask Lieutenant Mason, and you may 
bring in the whole congregation. We have not taken the 
guard from the foot-soldiers, but an hour, and I shouldn’t 
like to have it said that we know less of our duty than the 35 
militia.” 

“Admit the woman,” said Dunwoodie, sternly, observing, 
for the first time, that one of his own corps was on post. ^ 

•The corporal raised his hand to his cap, and fell back in 
silence ; the soldier stood to his arms, and the matron 4° 
entered. 


326 


THE SPY 


“Here is a reverend gentleman below, come to soothe 
the parting soul, in the place of our own divine, who is 
engaged with an appointment that could not be put aside; 
’tis to bury old Mr. . ” 

5 “Show him in,” said Henry, wdth feverish impatience. 

“ But will the sentinel let him pass ? I would not wish 

a friend of Mr. to be rudely stopped on the threshold, 

and he a stranger.” 

All eyes were now turned on Dunwoodie, who, looking at 
lo his watch, spoke a few words with Henry, in an under-tone, 
and hastened from the apartment, followed by Frances. 
The subject of their conversation was a wish expressed by 
the prisoner for a clergyman of his own persuasion, and a 
promise from the Major, that one should be sent from Fish- 
15 kill town, through which he was about to pass, on his way 
to the ferry to intercept the expected return of Harper. 
Mason soon made his bow at the door, and willingly com- 
plied with the wishes of the landlady; and the divine was 
invited to make his appearance accordingly. 

20 The person who was ushered into the apartment, preceded 
by Caesar, and followed by the matron, was a man beyond 
the middle age, or who might rather be said to approach 
the downhill of life. In stature he was above the size of 
ordinary men, though his excessive leanness might contrib- 
25 ute in deceiving as to his height; his countenance was 
sharp and unbending, and every muscle seemed set in rigid 
compression. No joy, or relaxation, appeared ever to have 
dwelt on features that frowned habitually, as if in detesta- 
tion of the vices of mankind. The brows were beetling, 
30 dark, and forbidding, giving the promise of eyes of no less 
repelling expression; but the organs were concealed beneath 
a pair of enormous green goggles, through which they glared 
around with a fierceness that denounced the coming day of 
wrath. All was fanaticism, uncharitableness, and denun- 
35 elation. Long, lank hair, a mixture of grey and black, 
fell down his neck, and in some degree obscured the sides 
of his face, and, parting on his forehead, fell in either direc- 
tion in straight and formal screens. On the top of this un- 
graceful exhibition was laid, impending forward, so as to 
40 overhang in some measure the whole fabric, a large hat of 
three equal cocks. His coat was of a rusty black, and his 


THE SPY 


327 


1 

breeches and stockings were of the same , colour ; his shoes 

i ’ without lustre, and half concealed beneath huge plated 
buckles. 

He stalked into the room, and giving a stiff nod with his 
lj head, took the chair offered him by the black, in dignified 5 
! silence. For several minutes no one broke this ominous 
I pause in the conversation ; Henry feeling a repugnance to 
his guest, that he was vainly endeavouring to conquer, 
and the stranger himself drawing forth occasional sighs and 
groans, that threatened a dissolution of the unequal con- 10 
i| nection between his sublimated soul and its ungainly 
tenement. During this deathlike preparation, Mr. Wharton, 
with a feeling nearly allied to that of his son, led Sarah from 
the apartment. His retreat was noticed by the divine, in 
a kind of scornful disdain, who began to hum the air of a 15 
popular psalm tune, giving it the full richness of the twang 
1 that distinguishes the Eastern® psalmody. 

“Caesar,” said Miss Peyton, “hand the gentleman some 
refreshment; he must need it after his ride.” 

“My strength is not in the things of life,” said the divine, 20 
speaking in a hollow, sepulchral voice. “Thrice have I 
! this day held forth in my master’s service, and fainted not; 
still it is prudent to help this frail tenement of clay, for, 

; surely, Hhe labourer is worthy of his hire.’” 

Opening a pair of enormous jaws, he took a good measure 25 
of the proffered brandy, and suffered it to glide downwards, 
with that sort of facility with which man is prone to sin. 

“I apprehend, then, sir, that fatigue will disable you from 
performing the duties, which kindness has induced you to 
attempt.” 3 ° 

“Woman!” exclaimed the stranger, with energy, “when 
was I ever known to shrink from a duty? But ‘judge not, 
lest ye be judged,’ and fancy not that it is given to mortal 
eyes to fathom the intentions of the Deity.” 

“Nay,” returned the maiden, meekly, and slightly dis- 35 
gusted with his jargon, “I pretend not to judge of either 
events, or the intentions of my fellow-creatures, much less 
of those of Omnipotence.” 

“ ’Tis well, woman — ’tis well,” cried the minister, wav- 
ing his head with supercilious disdain; “humility becometh 4 ° 
thy sex, and lost condition; thy weaknass driveth thee on 
headlong, like Hinto the besom of destruction.’” 


328 


THE SPY 


Surprised at this extraordinary deportment, but yielding 
to that habit which urges us to speak reverently on sacred 
subjects, even when perhaps we had better continue silent. 
Miss Peyton replied — 

5 “There is a power above, that can and will sustain us all 
in well-doing, if we seek its support in humility and truth.’' 

The stranger turned a lowering look at the speaker, and 
then composing himself into an air of self-abasement, he 
continued in the same repelling tones — 
lo ‘‘ It is not every one that crieth out for mercy, that will 
be heard. The ways of Providence are not to be judged 
by men — ‘Many are called, but few chosen.’ It is easier 
to talk of humility, than to feel it. Are you so humble, 
vile worm, as to wish to glorify God by your own damnation ? 
15 If not, away with you for a publican and a pharisee!” 

Such gross fanaticism was uncommon in America, and 
Miss Peyton began to irnbibe the impression that her guest 
was deranged; but remembering that he had been sent by 
a well-known divine, and one of reputation, she discarded 
20 the idea, and, with some forbearance, observed — 

“I may deceive myself, in believing that mercy is proffered 
to all, but it is so soothing a doctrine, that I would not 
willingly be undeceived.” 

“Mercy is only for the elect,”® cried the stranger, with an 
25 unaccountable energy; “and ‘you are in the ‘valley of the 
shadow of death.’ Are you not a follower of idle ceremonies, 
which belong to the vain church, that our tyrants would 
gladly establish here, along with their stamp-acts and tea- 
laws? Answer me that, woman; and remember, that 
30 Heaven hears your answer : are you not of that idolatrous 
communion ?” 

“I worship at the altars of my fathers,” said Miss Peyton, 
motioning to Henry for silence; “but bow to no other idol 
than my own infirmities.” - ,, •' 

35 “Yes, yes, I know ye, self-righteous and.,p^par as ye are 
— followers of forms, and listeners to bookisif' preaching; 
think you, woman, that holy Paul had notes in his hand to 
propound the word to the believers?” 

“My presence disturbs you,” said Miss Peyton, rising: 
40 “ I will leave you with my nephew, and offer those prayers 
in private that I did wish to mingle with his.” 




THE SPY 


329 


So saying, she withdrew, followed by the landlady, who 
was not a little shocked, and somewhat surprised, by the 
intemperate zeal of her new acquaintance; for, although 
I the good woman believed that Miss Peyton and her whole 
I church were on the high road to destruction, she was by 5 
I no means accustomed to hear such offensive and open 
avowals of their fate. 

I Henry had with difficulty repressed the indignation 
(| excited by this unprovoked attack on his meek and unre- 
ij sisting aunt; but as the door closed on her retiring figure, 10 
he gave way to his feelings — 

“I must confess, sir,” he exclaimed with heat, ‘‘that in 
receiving a minister of God, I thought I was admitting a 
Christian; and one who, by feeling his own weaknesses, 

• knew how to pity the frailties of others. You have wounded 15 
the meek spirit of an excellent woman, and I acknowledge 
but little inclination to mingle in prayer with so intolerant 
a spirit.” 

The minister stood erect, with grave composure, following 
with his eyes, in a kind of scornful pity, the retiring females, 20 
and suffered the expostulation of the youth to be given, as 
if unworthy of his notice. A third voice, however, spoke — 
“Such a denunciation would have driven many women 
into fits; but it has answered the purpose well enough, as 
it is.” 25 

“Who’s that?” cried the prisoner, in amazement, gazing 
around the room in quest of the speaker — 

“It is I, Captain Wharton,” said Harvey Birch, removing 
the spectacles, and exhibiting his piercing eyes, shining 
under a pair of false eye-brows. 30 

“ Good Heavens — Harvey !” 

“Silence!” said the pedler, solemnly; “ ’tis a name not 
to be mentioned, and least of all here, within the heart of 
the American army.” Birch paused and gazed around him 
for a moment, with an emotion exceeding the base passion 35 
of fear, and then continued in a gloomy tone, “There are 
a thousand halters in that very name, and little hope would 
there be left me of another escape, should I be again taken. 
This is a fearful venture that I am making; but I could not 
sleep in quiet, and know that an innocent man was about 40 
to die the death of a dog, when I might save him.” 


330 


THE SPY 


“'No” said Henry, with a glow of generous feeling on his 
cheek; “if the risk to yourself be so heavy, retire as you 
came, and leave me to my fate. Dunwoodie is making, 
even now, powerful exertions in my behalf ; and if he meets 
5 with Mr. Harper in the course of the night, my liberation is 
certain.” 

“Harper!” echoed the pedler, remaining with his hands 
raised, in the act of replacing the spectacles; “what do you 
know of Harper? and why do you think he wall do you 
lo service ?” 

• “I have his promise; — you remember our recent meeting 
in my father’s dwelling, and he then gave an unasked 
promise to assist me.” 

“Yes — but do you know him? that is — why do you 
1 5 think he has the power ? or what reason have you for be- 
lieving he will remember his word?” 

“If there ever was the stamp of truth, or simple, honest 
benevolence, in the countenance of man, it shone in his,” 
said Henry; “besides, Dunwoodie has powerful friends in 
20 the rebel army, and it would be better that I take the chance 
where I am, than thus to expose you to certain death, if 
detected.” 

“Captain Wharton,” said Birch, looking guardedl}’’ 
around, and speaking with impressive seriousness of manner, 
25 “if I fail you, all fail you. No Harper nor Dunwoodie can 
save your life; unless you get out with me, and that wdthin 
the hour, you die to-morrow on the gallows of a murderer. 
Yes, such are their laws; the man who fights, and kills, 
and plunders, is honoured; but he who serves his country 
30 as a spy, no matter how faithfully, no matter how honestly, 
lives to be reviled, or dies like the vilest criminal!” 

“You forget, Mr. Birch,” said the youth, a little indig- 
nantly, “that I am not a treacherous, lurking spy, who de- 
ceives to betray; but innocent of the charge imputed to 
35 me.” 

The blood rushed over the pale, meagre features of the 
pedler, until his face was one glow of .fire; but it passed 
quickly away, and he replied — 

“I have told you truth. Cjesar met me, as he was going 
40 on his errand this morning, and with him I have laid the 
plan which, if executed as I wish, will save you : — otherwise 


THE SPY 


•331 


you are lost; and I again tell you, that no other power on 
earth, not even Washington, can save you.” 

“I submit,” said the prisoner, yielding to his earnest 
manner, and goaded by the fears that were thus awakened 
anew. ^ 

The pedler beckoned him to be silent and walking to the 
door, opened it, with the stiff, formal air, with which he 
had entered the apartment. 

“Friend, let no one enter,” he said to the sentinel; “we 
are about to go to prayer, and would wish to be alone.” lo 

“I don’t know that any will wish to interrupt you,” re- 
turned the soldier, with a waggish leer of his eye; “but, 
should they be so disposed, I have no power to stop them, 
if they be of the prisoner’s friends; I have my orders, and 
must mind them, whether the Englishman goes to heaven, 15 
or not.” 

“Audacious sinner!” said the pretended priest, “have 
you not the fear of God before your eyes? I tell you, as 
you will dread punishment at the last day, to let none of 
the idolatrous communion enter, to mingle in the prayers 20 
of the righteous.” 

“Whew — ew — ew — what a noble commander you’d 
make for Sergeant Hollister I you’d preach him dumb in 
a roll-call. Hark’ee, I’ll thank you not to make such a noise 
when you hold forth, as to drown our bugles, or you may 25 
get a poor fellow a short horn at his grog, for not turning out 
to the evening parade: if you want to be alone, have you 
no knife to stick over the door-latch, that you must have 
a troop of horse to guard your meeting-house?” 

The pedler took the hint, and closed the door immediately, 3° 
using the precaution suggested by the dragoon. 

“You overact your part,” said young Wharton, in con- 
stant apprehension of discovery; “your zeal is too intem- 
perate.” 

“ For a foot-soldier and them Eastern militia, it might 35 
be,” said Harvey, turning a bag upside down, that Caesar 
now handed him; “but these dragoons are fellows that you 
must brag down. A faint heart. Captain Wharton, would 
do but little here; but come, here is a black shroud for your 
good-looking countenance,” taking, at the same time, a 40 
parchment mask, and fitting it to the face of Henry. “ The 
master and the man must change places for a season.” 


332 


THE SPY 


“ I don’t tink he look a bit like me,” said Caesar, with 
disgust, as he surveyed his young master with his new com- 
plexion. 

“ Stop a minute, Caesar,” said the pedler, with the lurking 
5 drollery that at times formed part of his manner, “ till we 
get on the wool.” , 

“ He worse than ebber now,” cried the discontented 
African. “ A tink coloured man like a sheep ! I nebber see 
sich a lip, Harvey; he most as big as a sausage !” 
lo Great pains had been taken in forming the different 
articles used in the disguise of Captain Wharton, and when 
arranged, under the skilful superintendence of the pedler, 
they formed together a transformation that would easily ' 
escape detection, from any but an extraordinary observer. ' 
15 The mask was stuffed and shaped in such a manner as to • 
preserve the peculiarities, as well as the colour, of the ] 
African visage; and the wig was so artfully formed of black , 
and white wool, as to imitate the pepper-and-salt colour of \ 
Caesar’s own head, and to exact plaudits from the black ' 
20 himself, who thought it an excellent counterfeit in every 
thing but quality. 

“ There is but one man in the American army who could j 
detect you. Captain Wharton,” said the pedler, surveying , 
his work with satisfaction, “ and he is just now out of our j 
25 way.” I 

“ And who is he ?” j 

“ The man who made you prisoner. He would see your i 
white skin through a plank. But strip, both of you; your, 
clothes must be exchanged from head to foot.” ‘ 

30 Caesar, who had received minute instructions from the 
pedler in their morning interview, immediately commenced 
throwing aside his coarse garments, which the youth took 
up and prepared to invest himself with; unable, however, 
to repress a few signs of loathing. 

35 In the manner of the pedler there was an odd mixture of 
care and humour; the former was the result of a perfect 
knowledge of their danger, and the means necessaiy to be ■ 
used in avoiding it; and the latter proceeded from the 
unavoidably ludicrous circumstances before him, acting on 
40 an indifference which sprung from habit, and long familiarity 
with such scenes as the present. i 


THE SPY 


333 


Here, Captain,’’ he said, taking up some loose wool, and 
beginning to stuff the stockings of Caesar, which were already 
on the leg of the prisoner; “some judgment is necessary in 
shaping this limb. You will have to display it on horse- 
back, and the southern dragoons are so used to the brittle- 5 
shins, that should they notice your well turned calf, they’d 
know at once it never belonged to a black.” 

“Golly!” said Caesar, with a chuckle, that exhibited a 
mouth open from ear to ear, “massy Harry breeches fit.” 

“ Any thing but your leg,” said the pedler, coolly pursuing 10 
the toilet of Henry. “ Slip on the coat. Captain, over ali. 
Upon my word, you’d pass well at a pinkster frolic; and 
here, Caesar, place this powdered wig over your curls, and 
be careful and look out of the window, whenever the door is 
open, and on no account speak, or you will betray all.” 15 

“ I s’pose Harvey tink a colour’d man an’t got a tongue 
like Oder folk,” grumbled the black, as he took the station 
assigned to him. 

Every thing now was arranged for action, and the pedler 
very deliberately went over the whole of his injunctions to 20 
the two actors in the scene. The Captain he conjured to 
dispense with his erect militaiy carriage, and for a season 
to adopt the humble paces of his father’s negro; and Ciesar 
he enjoined to silence and disguise, so long as he could 
possibly maintain them. Thus prepared, he opened the 25 
door, and called aloud to the sentinel, who had retired to 
the farthest end of the passage, in order to avoid receiving 
any of that spiritual comfort, which he felt was the sole 
property of another. 

“ Let the woman of the house be called,” said Harvey, 30 
in the solemn key of his as, umed character; “and let her 
come alone. The prisoner is in a happy train of meditation, 
and must not be led from his devotions.” 

Caesar sunk his face between his hands; and when the 
soldier looked into the apartment, he thought he saw his 35 
charge in deep abstraction. Casting a glance of huge con- 
tempt at the divine, he called aloud for the good woman of 
the house. She hastened at the summons, with earnest 
zeal, entertaining a secret hope that she was to be admitted 
to the gossip of a death-bed repentance. 40 

“ Sister,” said the minister, in the authoritative tones of a 


334 


THE SPY 


master, “have you in the house ‘The Christian Criminahs 
last Moments, or Thoughts on Eternity, for them who die 
a violent Death’ ?” 

“ I never heard of the book ! ” said the matron in astonish- 
5 ment. 

“ ’Tis not unlikely; there are many books you have never 
heard of: it is impossible for this poor penitent to pass in 
peace, without the consolations of that volume. One hour’s 
reading in it, is worth an age of man’s preaching.” 
lo “Bless me, what a treasure to possess ! — when was it 
put out?” ° 

“ It was first put out at Geneva in the Greek language, 
and then translated at Boston. It is a book, woman, that 
should be in the hands of every Christian, especially such 
15 as die upon the gallows. Have a horse prepared instantly 

for this black, who shall accompany me to my Brother , 

and I will send down the volume yet in season. — Brother, 
compose thy mind; you are now in the narrow path to 
glory.” 

20 Csesar wriggled a little in his chair, but he had sufficient 
recollection to conceal his face with hands that were, in their 
turn, concealed by gloves. The landlady departed, to 
comply with this very reasonable request, and the group of 
conspirators were again left to themselves. 

25 “ This is well,” said the pedler; “ but the difficult task is 

to deceive the officer who commands the guard — he is 
lieutenant to Lawton, and has learned some of the Captain’s 
own cunning in these things. Remember, Captain Whar- 
ton,” continued he, with an air of pride, “ that now is the 
30 moment when every thing depends on our coolness.” 

“ My fate can be made but little worse than it is at present, 
my worthy fellow,” said Henry; “but for your sake I will 
do all that in me lies.” 

“ And wherein can I be more forlorn and persecuted than 
35 I now am?” asked the pedler, with that wild incoherence 
which often crossed his manner. “ But I have promised 
one to save you, and to him I never have yet broken my 
word.” 

“And who is he?” said Henry, with awakened interest, 
40 ‘‘ No one.” 

The man soon returned, and announced that the horses 


THE SPY 


335 


I were at the door. Harvey gave the Captain a glance, and 
I led the way down the stairs, first desiring the woman to 
[| leave the prisoner to himself, in order that he might digest 
P; the wholesome mental food that he had so lately received. 

I A rumour of the odd character of the priest had spread 5 
from the sentinel at the door to his comrades ; so that when 
i Harvey and Wharton reached the open space before the 
building, they found a dozen idle dragoons loitering about, 
with the waggish intention of quizzing the fanatic, and 
employed in affected admiration of the steeds. 10 

“ A fine horse V’ said the leader in this plan of mischief; 
“but a little low in flesh; I suppose from hard labour in 
! your calling.’’ 

^‘My calling may be laboursome to both myself and this 
■ faithful beast, but then’a day of settling is at hand, that will 15 
I reward me for all my outgoings and incomings,” said Birch, 

I putting his foot in the stirrup, and preparing to mount. 

“ You work for pay, then, as we fight for ’t ?” cried another 
of the party. 

“ Even so — ‘is not the labourer worthy of his hire?” 20 
“Come, suppose you give us a little preaching; we have 
a leisure moment just now, and there’s no telling how much 
good you might do a set of reprobates like us, in a few words ; 
here, mount this horseblock, and take your text where you 
please.” 25 

The men now gathered in eager delight around the pedler, 
who, glancing his eye expressively towards the Captain, 
who had been suffered to mount, replied — ■ 

‘ ‘ Doubtless, for such is my duty. But Ciesar, you can ride 
up the road and deliver the note — the unhappy prisoner 30 
will be wanting the book, for his hours are numbered.” 

“ Ay — ay, go along, Caesar, and get the book,” shouted 
half a dozen voices, all crowding eagerly around the ideal 
priest, in anticipation of a frolic. 

The pedler inwardly dreaded, that, in their unceremonious 35 
handling of himself and garments, his hat and wig might 
be displaced, when detection would be certain; he was 
therefore fain to comply with their request. Ascending 
the horseblock, after hemming once or twice, and casting 
several glances at the Captain, who continued immovable, 
he commenced as follows: 


336 


THE SPY 


‘‘I shall call your attention, my brethren, to that portion 
of Scripture which you will find in the second book of Samuel, 
and which is written in the following words: — ‘And the 
king lamented over Abner, and said, Died Abner as a fool 
5 dieth ? Thy hands were not bound, nor thy feet 'put into 
fetters: as a man falleth before wicked men, so fellest thou. 
And all the people wept again over him.’ Caesar, ride forward, 
I say, and obtain the book as directed ; thy master is groan- 
ing in spirit even now for the want of it.” 
lo “An excellent text!” cried the dragoons. “Go on — 
go on — let the snowball stay ; he wants to be edified as 
well as another.” 

“What are you at there, scoundrels?” cried Lieutenant 
Mason, as he came in sight from a walk he had taken to 
15 sneer at the evening parade of the regiment of militia; 
“away with every man of you to your quarters, and let me 
find that each horse is cleaned and littered, when I come 
round.” The sound of the officer’s voice operated like a 
charm, and no priest could desire a more silent congregation, 
20 although he might possibly have wished for one that was 
more numerous. Mason had not done speaking, when it 
was reduced to the image of Csesar only. The pedler took 
that opportunity to mount, but he had to preserve the 
gravity of his movements, for the remark of the troopers 
25 upon the condition of their beasts was but too just, and a 
dozen dragoon horses stood saddled and bridled at hand, 
ready to receive their riders, at a moment’s warning. 

“Well, have you bitted the poor fellow within,” said 
Mason, “that he can take his last ride under the curb of 
30 divinity, old gentleman?” 

“There is evil in thy conversation, profane man,” cried 
the priest, raising his hands, and casting his eyes upwards 
in holy horror ; “ so I will depart from thee unhurt, as Daniel 
was liberated from the lions’ den.” 

35 “ Off with you, for a hypocritical, psalm-singing, canting 

rogue in disguise,” said Mason, scornfully; “by the life of 
Washington! it worries an honest fellow to see such vora- 
cious beasts of prey ravaging a country for which he sheds 
his blood. If I had vou on a Virginia plantation for a 
40 quarter of an hour, Vd teach you to worm the tobacco, 
with the turkeys.” 


THE SPY 


337 


leave you, and shake the dust off my shoes, that no 
remnant of this wicked hole may tarnish the vestments of 
the godly.” 

‘‘Start, or I will shake the dust from your jacket, design- 
ing knave ! A fellow to be preaching to my men ! There’s 5 
Hollister put the devil in them by his exhorting; the rascals 
were getting too conscientious to strike a blow that would 
rase the skin. But hold! whither do you travel, master 
, blackey, in such godly company?” 

I “He goes,” said the minister, hastily speaking for his 10 
companion, “to return with a book of much condolence and 
virtue to the sinful youth above, whose soul will speedily 
i ^become white, even as his outwards are black and un- 
seemly. Would you deprive a dying man of the consolation 
I of religion?” 15 

' “No, no, poor fellow, his fate is bad enough; a famous 
good breakfast his prim body of an aunt gave us. But 
f harkee, Mr. Revelations, if the youth must die secundum 
I artem, let it be under a gentleman’s directions; and my 
I advice is, that you never trust that skeleton of yours among 20 
I US’ again, or I will take the skin off and leave you naked.” 

“Out upon thee for a reviler and scoffer of goodness!” 
said Birch, moving slowly, and with a due observance of 
clerical dignity, down the road, followed by the imaginary 
Caesar; “but I leave thee, and that behind me that will 25 
prove thy condemnation, and take from thee a hearty and 
joyful deliverance.” 

“Damn him,” muttered the trooper; “the fellow rides 
like a stake, and his legs stick out like the cocks of his hat. 

I wish I had him below these hills, where the law is not 30 
over-particular, I’d — ” 

“Corporal of the guard! — corporal of the guard!” 
shouted the sentinel in the passage to the chambers, “cor- 
poral of the guard! — • corporal of the guard!” 

The subaltern flew up the narrow stairway that led to the 35 
room of the prisoner, and demanded the meaning of the 
outcry. 

The soldier was standing at the open door of the apartment, 
looking in with a suspicious eye on the supposed British offi- 
cer. On observing his lieutenant, he fell back with habitual 40 
respect, and replied, with an air of puzzled thought — 
z 


338 


THE SPY 


“I don’t know, sir; but just now the prisoner looked 
queer. Ever since the preacher has left him, he don’t 
look as he used to do — but,” gazing intently over the 
•shoulder of his officer, ‘^it must be him, too! There is the 
<; same powdered head, and the darn in the coat, where he 
was hit the day we had the last brush with the enemy.” 

“And then all this noise is occasioned by your doubting 
whether that poor gentleman is your prisoner, or not, is it, 
sirrah? Who the dev.l do you think it can be, else?”^ . 
lo “I don’t know who else it can be,” returned the fellow, : 
sullenly; “but he is grown thicker and shorter, if it is he; ' 
and see for yourself, sir, he shakes all over, like a man in an 
ague.” 

This was but too true. Caesar was an alarmed auditor ‘ j 
15 of this short conversation, and, from congratulating him- ; 
seif upon the dexterous escape of his young master, his 
thoughts were very naturally beginning to dwell upon the 
probable consequences to his own person. The pause that 
succeeded the last remark of the sentinel, in no degree con- 
20 tributed to the restoration of his faculties. Lieutenant 
Mason was busied in examining with his own eyes the sus- 
pected person of the black, and C®sar was aware of the fact, 
by stealing a look through a passage under one of his arms, j 
that he had left expressly for the purpose of reconnoitring. 

25 Captain Lawton would have discovered the fraud imme- | 
diately, but Mason was by no means so quick-sighted as his ^ 
commander. He therefore turned rather contemptuously ; 
to the soldier, and, speaking in an under-tone, observed — ‘ 

“That anabaptist, methodistical, quaker, psalm-singing ^ 
30 rascal has frightened the boy, with his farrago about flames 
and brimstone. I’ll step in and cheer him with a little ; 
rational conversation.” ^ 

“I have heard of fear making a man white,” said the i 
soldier, drawing back, and staring as if his eyes would start ; 
35 from their sockets, “but it has changed the royal captain ^ 
to a black!” 

The truth was, that Csesar, unable to hear what Mason { 
uttered in a low voice, and having every fear aroused in i 
him by what had already passed, incautiously removed the 
40 wig a little from one of his ears, in order to hear the better, 
without in the least remembering that its colour might prove 


THE SPY 


339 


I fatal to his disguise. The sentinel had kept his eyes fastened 
on his prisoner, and noticed the action. The attention of 
Mason was instantly drawn to the same object; and, for- 
getting all delicacy for a brother officer in distress, or, in i 
short, forgetting every thing but the censure that might 5 
alight on his corps, the Lieutenant sprang forward and seized 
the terrified African by the throat; for no sooner had Ctesar 
heard his colour named, than he knew his discovery was 
certain ; and at the first sound of Mason’s heavy boot on the 
floor, he arose from his seat, and retreated precipitately 10 
I to a corner of the room. 

' “Who are you?” cried Mason, dashing the head of the 
old man against the angle of the wall at each interrogatory, 
“who the devil are you, and where is the Englishman? 
Speak, thou thundercloud! Answer me, you jackdaw, 15 
or I’ll hang you on the gallows of the spy!” 

Csesar continued firm. Neither the threats nor the blows 
could extract any reply, until the Lieutenant, by a very 
natural transition in the attack, sent his heavy boot forward 
in a direction that brought it in direct contact with the most 20 
sensitive part of the negro — his shin. The most obdurate 
heart could not have exacted further patience, and Caesar 
instantly gave in. The first words he spoke were — 

“Golly! Massa, you t’ink I got no feelin’?” 

“By Heavens!” shouted the Lieutenant, “it is the negro 25 
himself! Scoundrel! where is your master, and who was 
the priest?” While speaking, he made a movement, as 
if about to renew the attack; but Caesar cried aloud for 
mercy, promising to tell all that he knew. 

“Who was the priest?” repeated the dragoon, drawing 3° 
back his formidable leg, and holding it in threatening sus- 
pense — 

“Harvey, Harvey!” cried Caesar, dancing from one leg 
to the other, as he thought each member in turn might be 
I assailed. . 35 

“Harvey who, you black villain?” cried the impatient 
Lieutenant, as he executed a full measure of vengeance by 
letting his leg fly. 

“Birch!” shrieked Caesar, falling on his knees, the tears 
rolling in large drops over his shining face. 40 

“Harvey Birch!” echoed the trooper, hurling the black 


340 


THE SPY 


from him, and rushing from the room. “ To arms ! to arms ! 
Fifty guineas for the life of the pedler spy — give no quarter 
to either. Mount, mount ! to arms ! to horse ! ” 

• During the uproar occasioned by the assembling of the 
5 dragoons, who all rushed tumultuously to their horses, 
Csesar rose from the floor, where he had been thrown by 
Mason, and began to examine into his injuries. Happily 
for himself, he had alighted on his head, and consequently 
sustained no material damage.\ 


CHAPTER XXIX 


Away went Gilpin, neck or nought, 

Away went hat and wig ; 

He little dreamt, when he set out, 

' Of running such a rig. 

COWPER. 

The road which it was necessary for the pedler and the 
English captain to travel, in order to reach the shelter of 
the hills, lay, for a half-mile, in full view from the door of 
the building that had so recently been the prison of the 
latter; running for the whole distance over the rich plain, 5 
that spreads to the very foot of the mountains, which here 
rise in a nearly perpendicular ascent from their bases; it 
then turned short to the right, and was obliged to follow 
the windings of nature, as it won its way into the bosom 
of the Highlands. 10 

To preserve the supposed difference in their stations, Harvey 
rode a short distance ahead of his companion, and main- 
tained the sober, dignified pace, that was suited to his as- 
sumed character. On their right, the regiment of foot, 
that we have already mentioned, lay in tents; and the 15 
sentinels who guarded their encampment were to be seen 
moving with measured tread under the skirts of the hills 
themselves. 

j The first impulse of Henry was, certainly, to urge the 
I beast he rode to his greatest speed at once, and by a coup- 20 
! de-main not only accomplish his escape, but relieve himself 
Ifrom the torturing suspense of his situation. But the for- 
Iward movement that the youth made for this purpose was 
instantly checked by the pedler. 

“Hold up!” he cried, dexterously reining his own horse 25 
across the path of the other; “would you ruin us both? 
Fall into the place of a black, following his master. Did 
you not see their blooded chargers, all saddled and bridled, 
standing in the sun before the house? How long do you 
think that miserable Dutch horse you are on would hold his 3 ° 

341 


342 


THE SPY 


speed, if pursued by the Virginians? Every foot that we 
can gain, without giving the alarm, counts a day in our 
lives. Ride steadily after me, and on no account look back. 
They are as subtle as foxes, ay, and as ravenous for blood 
5 as wolves!” 

Henry reluctantly restrained his impatience, and followed 
the direction of the pedler. His imagination, however, 
continually alarmed him with the fancied sounds of pursuit; 
though Birch, who occasionally looked back under the pre- 
lo tence of addressing his companion, assured him that all 
continued quiet and peaceful. 

“But,” said Henry, “it will not be possible for Ciesar to 
remain long undiscovered. Had we not better put our 
horses to the gallop, and by the time they can reflect on 
1 5 the cause of our flight, we can reach the corner of the 
woods?” 

“Ah! you little know them. Captain Wharton,” returned; 
the pedler; “there is a sergeant at this moment looking 
after us, as if he thought all was not right; the keen-eyed 
20 fellow watches me like a tiger lying in wait for his leap. 
When I stood on the horseblock, he half suspected that some- > 
thing was wrong. Nay, check your beast — we must let 
the animals walk a little, for he is laying his hand on the 
pommel of his saddle. If he mounts, we are gone. The 
25 foot-soldiers could reach us with their muskets.” 

“What does he now?” asked Henry, reining his horse to 
a walk, but at the same time pressing his heels into the 
animal’s sides, to be in readiness for a spring. 

“He turns from his charger, and looks the other way; 
30 now trot on gently — not so fast — not so fast. Observe i 
the sentinel in the field, a little ahead of us — he eyes us 
keenly.” I 

“Never mind the footman,” said Henry, impatiently; 
“he can do nothing but shoot us — whereas these dragoons i 
35 may make me a captive again. Surely, Harvey, there are 1 
horse moving down the road behind us. Do you see noth - 1 
ing particular-?” 

“Humph!” ejaculated the pedler; “there is something 
particular indeed, to be seen behind the thicket on our left. 
40 Turn your head a little, and you may see and profit by it ; 
too.” i 


THE SPY 


343 


. Henry eagerly seized this permission to look aside, and the 
I blood curdled to his heart as he observed that they were 
( passing a gallows, which unquestionably had been erected 
^ for his own execution. He turned his face from the sight, 
in undisguised horror. 

“There is a warning to be prudent,” said the pedler, in 
: the sententious manner that he often adopted. 

; “ It is a terrific sight, indeed !” cried Henry, for a moment 

veiling his eyes with his hand, as if to drive a vision from 
before him. lo 

The pedler moved his body partly around, and spoke with 
energetic but gloomy bitterness — “And yet, Captain 
Wharton, you see it where the setting sun shines full upon 
you; the air you breathe is clear, and fresh from the hills 
before you. Every step that you take leaves that hated 15 
gallows behind ; and every dark hollow, and every shapeless 
rock in the mountains, offers you a hiding place from the 
vengeance of your enemies. But I have seen the gibbet 
raised, when no place of refuge offered. Twice have I 
: been buried in dungeons, where, fettered and in chains, I 20 
j have passed nights in torture, looking forward to the morn- 
i ing’s dawn that was to light me to a death of infamy. The 
sweat has started from limbs that seemed already drained 
of their moisture; and if I ventured to the hole that ad- 
mitted air through grates of iron to look out upon the smiles 25 
of nature, which God has bestowed for the meanest of his 
creatures, the gibbet has glared before my eyes, like an evil 
: conscience harrowing the soul of a dying man. Four times 
i have I been in their power, besides this last; but — twice 
— did I think my hour had come. It is hard to die at the 3° 
best. Captain Wharton; but to spend your last moments 
alone and unpitied, to know that none near you so much as 
think of the fate that is to you the closing of all that is 
earthly; to think, that in a few hours, you are to be led from 
the gloom, which, as you dwell on what follows, becomes 35 
dear to you, to the face of day, and there to meet all eyes 
fixed upon you, as if you were a wild beast; and to lose 
sight of every thing amidst the jeers and scoffs of your fellow- 
creatures — that. Captain Wharton, that indeed is to die !” 

Henry listened in amazement, as his companion uttered 40 
this speech with a vehemence altogether new to him; both 


344 


THE SPY 


seemed to have forgotten their danger and their dis- 
guises. 

“What ! were you ever so near death as that?” 

“ Have I not been the hunted beast of these hills for three 
5 years past?” resumed Harvey; “and once they even led 
me to the foot of the gallows itself, and I escaped only by 
an alarm from the royal troops. Had they been a quarter 
of an hour later, I must have died. There was I placed in 
the midst of unfeeling men, and gaping women and children, 
lo as a monster to be cursed. When I would pray to God, 
my ears were insulted with the history of my crimes; and 
when, in all that multitude, I looked around for a single 
face that showed me any pity, I could find none — no, not 
even one; all cursed me as a wretch who would sell his 
15 country for gold. The sun was brighter to my eyes than 
common — but it was the last time I should see it. The 
fields were gay and pleasant, and every thing seemed as j 
if this world was a kind of heaven. Oh ! how sweet life 
was to me at that moment ! ’Twas a dreadful hour, Captain , 
2D Wharton, and such as you have never known. You have I 
friends to feel for you, but I had none but a father to mourn ! 
my loss, when he might hear of it; but there was no pity, j 
no consolation near, to soothe my anguish. Every thing 
seemed to have deserted me. I even thought that he had | 
25 forgotten that I lived.” j 

“What! did you feel that God himself had forsaken you, | 
Harvey?” i 

“God never forsakes his servants,” returned Birch, with 1 
reverence, and exhibiting naturally a devotion that hitherto > 
30 he had only assumed. ■ 

“And who did you mean by he?” I 

The pedler raised himself in his saddle to the stiff and i 
upright posture that was suited to his outward appearance. ! 
The look of fire, that for a short time glowed on his coun- [ 
35 tenance, disappeared in the solemn lines of unbending self- ; 
abasement, and, speaking as if addressing a negro, he i 
replied — , 

“In heaven there is no distinction of colour, my brother; . 
therefore you have a precious charge within you, that you 
40 must hereafter render an account of;” dropping his voice 1 
— “this is the last sentinel near the road; look not back, ; 
as you value your life.” 


THE SPY 


345 


Henry remembered his situation, and instantly assumed 
the humble demeanour of his adopted character. The 
j unaccountable energy of the pedler’s manner was soon for- 
; gotten in the sense of his own immediate danger; and with 
i the recollection of his critical situation, returned all the 5 
; uneasiness that he had momentarily forgotten. 

; “What see you, Harvey?'' he cried, observing the pedler 
jto gaze towards the building they had left, with ominous 
interest; “what see you at the house?" 

“ That which bodes no good to us," returned the pretended 10 
priest. “Throw aside the mask and wig; you will need all 
your senses without much delay ; throw them in the road : 

, there are none before us that I dread, but there are those 
behind who will give us a fearful race!" 

“Nay, then,'' cried the Captain, casting the implements 15 
of his disguise into the highway, “let us improve our time 
to the utmost. We want a full quarter to the turn; why 
not push for it, at once?" 

“Be cool; they are in alarm, but they will not mount 
without an officer, unless they see us fly — now he comes, 20 
he moves to the stables; trot briskly; a dozen are in their 
saddles, but the officer stops to tighten his girths; they 
hope to steal a march upon us; he is mounted; now ride. 
Captain Wharton, for your life, and keep at my heels. If 
you quit me, you will be lost !" 25 

A second request was unnecessary. The instant that 
Harvey put his horse to his speed. Captain Wharton was at 
his heels, urging the miserable animal he rode to the utmost. 
Birch had selected his own beast; and although vastly 
inferior to the high-fed and blooded chargers of the dragoons, 3° 
still it was much superior to the little pony that had been 
thought good enough to carry Csesar Thompson on an 
errand. A very few jumps convinced the Captain that his 
companion was fast leaving him, and a fearful glance thrown 
behind, informed the fugitive that his enemies were as speed- 35 
ily approaching. With that abandonment that makes 
misery doubly grievous, when it is to be supported alone, 
Henry cried aloud to the pedler not to desert him. Harvey 
instantly drew up, and suffered his companion to run along- 
side of his own horse. The cocked hat and wig of the pedler 40 
fell from his head the moment that his steed began to move 


346 


THE SPY 


briskly, and this development of their disguise, as it might | 
be termed, was witnessed by the dragoons, who announced 
their observation by a boisterous shout, that. seemed to 
be uttered in the very ears of the fugitives ; so loud was the 
5 cry, and so short the distance between them. 

“Had we not better leave our horses?’’ said Henry, “and 
make for the hills across the fields, on our left ? — the fence 
will stop our pursuers.” 

“ That way lies the gallows,” returned the pedler; “these 
lo fellows go three feet to our two, and would mind the fences 
no more than we do these ruts ; but it is a short quarter to 
the turn, and there are two roads behind the wood. They 
may stand to choose until they can take the track, and we 
shall gain a little upon them there.” 

15 “But this miserable horse is blown already,” cried Henry, 
urging his beast with the end of his bridle, at the same time 
that Harvey aided his efforts by applying the lash of a 
heavy riding- whip he carried; “he will never stand it for 
ha’f a mile farther.” 

20 “A quarter will do; a quarter will do,” said the pedler; 
“a single quarter will save us, if you follow my directions.” 

Somewhat cheered by the cool and confident manner of j 
his companion, Henry continued silently urging his horse • 
forward. A few moments brought them to the desired turn, 

. 25 and as they doubled round a point of low under-brush, the j 
fugitives caught a glimpse of their pursuers scattered along 
the high-way. Mason and the sergeant, being better 
mounted than the rest of the party, were much nearer to 
their heels than even the pedler thought could be possible. 
30 At the foot of the hills, and for some distance up the'dark 
valley that wound among the mountains, a thick under- 
wood of saplings had been suffered to shoot up, where the 
heavier growth was felled for the sake of the fuel. At the 
sight of this cover, Henry again urged the pedler to dis- 
35 mount, and to plunge into the woods; but his request was 
promptly refused. The two roads, before mentioned, met 
at a very sharp angle, at a short distance from the turn, and 
both were circuitous, so that but little of either could be 
seen at a time. The pedler took the one which led to the 
40 left, but held it only a moment; for, on reaching a partial 
opening in the thicket, he darted across into the right-hand 




THE SPY 


347 


path, and led the way up a steep ascent, which lay directly 
before them. This manoeuvre saved them. On reaching 
i the fork, the dragoons followed the track, and passed the 
ispot where the fugitives had crossed to the other road, 
before they missed the marks of the footsteps. Their loud 5 
cries were heard by Henry and the pedler, as their wearied 
and breathless animals toiled up the hill, ordering their 
' comrades in the rear to ride in the right direction. The 
I Captain again proposed to leave their horses and dash into 
j the thicket. 10 

I ‘^Not yet, not yet,” said Birch, in a low voice; “the road 
falls from the top of this hill as steep as it rises; first let 
jus gain the top.” While speaking, they reached the desired 
: summit, and both threw themselves from their horses, 
•Henry plunging into the thick underwood, which covered 15 
The side of the mountain for some distance above them. 
Harvey stopped to give each of their beasts a few severe 
blows of his whip, that drove them headlong down the path 
on the other side of the eminence, and then followed his 
example. 20 

The pedler entered the thicket with a little caution, and 
avoided, as much as possible, rustling or breaking the 
branches in his way. There was but time only to shelter 
his person from view, when a dragoon led up the ascent; 
and on reaching the height, he cried aloud — 25 

“I saw one of their horses turning the hill this minute.” 

“Drive on; spur forward, my lads,” shouted Mason; 

; “give the Englishman quarter, but cut down the pedler, 

( and make an end of him.” 

Henry felt his companion gripe his arm hard, as he 3 ° 
listened in a great tremor to this cry, which was followed 
by the passage of a dozen horsemen, with a vigour and speed 
that showed too plainly how little security their over-tired 
steeds could have afforded them. 

“Now,” said the pedler, rising from the cover to recon- 35 
noitre, and standing for a moment in suspense, “all that we 
gain is clear gain; for, as we go up, they go down. Let us 
be stirring.” 

“But will they not follow us, and surround this moun- 
tain?” said Henry, rising, and imitating the laboured but 4 ° 
rapid progress of his companion; “remember, they have 


foot as well as horse, and, at any rate, we shall starve in 
the hills.” 

‘‘Fear nothing. Captain Wharton,” returned the pedler, 
with confidence; “this is not the mountain that I would be 
5 on, but necessity has made me a dexterous pilot among 
these hills. I will lead you where no man will dare to follow. 
See, the sun is already setting behind the tops of the western 
mountains, and it will be two hours to the rising of the 
moon, Who, think you, will follow us far, on a November 
lo night, among these rocks and precipices?” 

“ Listen ! ” exclaimed Henry ; “ the dragoons are shouting 
to each other; they miss us already.” 

“Come to the point of this rock, and you may see them,” 
said Harvey, composedly seating himself down to rest. 
15 ‘‘Nay, they can see us — observe, they are pointing up with 
their fingers. There! one has fired his pistol, but the dis- 
tance is too great even for a musket.” 

“They will pursue us,” cried the impatient Henry; “let 
us be moving.” 

20 “ They will not think of such a thing,” returned the pedler, 

picking the checker-berries that grew on the thin soil where 
he sat, and very deliberately chewing them, leaves and all, 
to refresh his mouth^ “What progress could they make 
here, in their heavy boots and spurs, and long swords ? 
25 No, no — they may go back and turn out the foot, but the 
horse pass through these defiles, when they can keep the 
saddle, with fear and trembling. Come, follow me. Captain. 
Wharton; we have a troublesome march before us, but I 
will bring you where none will think of venturing this 
30 night.” 

So saying, they both arose, and were soon hid from view 
amongst the rocks and caverns of the mountain. 

The conjecture of the pedler was true. Mason and his 
men dashed down the hill, in pursuit, as they supposed, 
35 of their victims, biit on reaching the bottom lands, they 
found only the deserted horses of the fugitives. Some little 
time was spent in examining the woods near them, and in 1 
endeavouring to take the trail on such ground as might 
enable the horse to pursue, when one of the party descried I 
40 the pedler and Henry seated on the rock already mentioned. 

“He’s off,” muttered Mason, eyeing Harvey, with fury;; 


THE SPY 


349 


hes off, and we are disgraced. By heavens, Washington 
: will not trust us with the keeping of a suspected Tory, if 
I we let the rascal trifle in this manner with the corps; and 
; there sits the Englishman, too, looking down upon us with 
: a smile of benevolence! I fancy that I can see it. Well, 5 
I my lad, you are comfortably seated, I will confess, and that 
I is something better than dancing upon nothing; but you 
i are not to the west of the Harlem River yet, and 141 try 
1 your wind before you tell Sir Henry what you have seen, or 
I’m no soldier.” 10 

Shall I fire, and frighten the pedler?” asked one of the 
■ men, drawing his pistol from the holster.' 

“ Ay, startle the birds from their perch — let us see how 
they can use the wing.” The man fired the pistol, and 
1 Mason continued — ’Fore George, I believe the scoundrels 15 
laugh at us. But homeward, or we shall have them rolling 
stones upon our heads, and the Royal Gazettes teeming 
with an account of a rebel regiment routed by two loyalists. 
They have told bigger lies than that, before now.” 

The dragoons moved sullenly after their officer, who rode 20 
towards their quarters, musing on the course it behoved him 
to pursue in the present dilemma. It was twilight when 
Mason’s party reached the dwelling, before the door of 
which were collected a great number of the officers and men, 
busily employed in giving and listening to the most exag- 25 
gerated accounts of the escape of the spy. The mortified 
dragoons gave their ungrateful tidings with the sullen air 
of disappointed men; and most of the officers gathered 
round Mason, to consult of the steps that ought to be taken. 
Miss Peyton and Frances were breathless and unobserved 3° 
listeners to all that passed between them, from the window 
of the chamber immediately above their heads. 

‘'Something must be done, and that speedily,” observed ^ 
the commanding officer of the regiment, which lay encamped 
before the house: “this English officer is doubtless an in- 35 
strument in the great blow aimed at us by the enemy lately; 
besides, our honour is involved in his escape.” 

“Let us beat the woods!” cried several at once; “by 
morning we shall have them both again.” 

“Softly, softly, gentlemen,” returned the Colonel; “no 40 
man can travel these hills after dark, unless used to the 


350 


THE SPY 


passes. Nothing but horse can do service in this business, 
and I presume Lieutenant Mason hesitates to move without 
the orders of his major.’’ 

“I certainly dare not,” replied the subaltern, gravely 
5 shaking his head, “unless you will take the responsibility 
of an order; but Major Dunwoodie will be back again in 
two hours, and we can carry the tidings through the hills 
before daylight; so that by spreading patrols across, from 
one river to the other, and offering a reward to the country 
lo people, their escape will yet be impossible, unless they can 
join the party that is said to be out on the Hudson.” 

“A very plausible plan,” cried the Colonel, “and one that 
must succeed; but let a messenger be despatched to Dun- 
woodie, or he may continue at the ferry until it proves too 
15 late; though doubtless the runaways will lie in the moun- 
tains to-night.” 

To this suggestion Mason acquiesced, and a courier was 
sent to the Major with the important intelligence of the 
escape of Henry, and an intimation of the necessity of his 
20 presence to conduct the pursuit. After this arrangement, 
the officers separated. 

When Miss Peyton and her niece first learnt the escape of 
Captain Wharton, it was with difficulty they could credit 
their senses. They both relied so implicitly on the success 
25 of Dunwoodie’s exertions, that they thought the act, on 
the part of their relative, extremely imprudent; but it 
was now too late to mend it. While listening to the con- 
versation of the officers, both were struck with the increased 
danger of Henry’s situation, if re-captured, and they 
30 trembled to think of the great exertions that would be made j 
to accomplish this object. Miss Peyton consoled herself, ' 
and endeavoured to cheer her niece, with the probability | 
that the fugitives would pursue their course with unremit- : 
ting diligence, so that they might reach the Neutral Ground j 
35 before the horse would carry down the tidings of their i 
flight. The absence of Dunwoodie seemed to her all-im- j 
portant, and the artless lady was anxiously devising some | 
project that might detain her kinsman, and thus give her j 
nephew the longest possible time. But very different were 
40 the reflections of Frances. She could no longer doubt that j 
the figure she had seen on the hill was Birch, and she felt i 


t certain that, instead of flying to the friendly forces below, 
her brother would be taken to the mysterious hut to pass 
li the night. 

Frances and her aunt held a long and animated discussion 
by themselves, when the good spinster reluctantly yielded 5 
.|to the representation of her niece, and, folding her in her 
arms, she kissed her cold cheek, and, fervently blessing her, 
allowed her to depart on an errand of fraternal love. 


CHAPTER XXX 


And here, forlorn and lost, I tread, 

With fainting steps, and slow; 

Where wilds, immeasurably spread, 

Seem length’ning as I go. 

Goldsmith. 


y 


The night had set in dark and chilling, as Frances Whar- 
ton, with a beating heart but light step, moved through 
the little garden that lay behind the farm-house which 
had been her brother’s prison, and took her way to the 
5 foot of the mountain, where she had seen the figure of 
him she supposed to be the pedler. It was still early, but 
the darkness and the dreary nature of a November even- 
ing would, at any other moment, or with less inducement 
to exertion, have driven her back in terror to the circle 
lo she had left. Without pausing to reflect, however, she 
flew over the ground with a rapidity that seemed to bid 
defiance to all impediments, nor stopped even to breathe, 
until she had gone half the distance to the rock that she 
had marked as the spot where Birch made his appearance 
15 on that very morning. 

The good treatment of their women is the surest evi- 
dence that a people can give of their civilisation ; and . 
there is no nation which has more to boast of, in this respect, 
than the Americans. Frances felt but little apprehension 
20 from the orderly and quiet troops who were taking their 
evening’s repast on the side of the highway, opposite to 
the field through which she was flying. They were her 
countrymen, and she knew that her sex would be respected 
by the Eastern militia, who composed this body; but in 
25 the volatile and reckless character of the Southern horse 
she had less confidence. Outrages of any description were 
seldom committed by the really American soldiery; but 
she recoiled, with exquisite delicacy, from even the ap-- 
pearance of humiliation. When, therefore, she heard the 


352 


THE SPY 


353 


footsteps of a horse moving slowly up the road, she shrank, 
timidly, into a little thicket of wood which grew around the 
spring that bubbled from the side of a hillock near her. 
The vidette,° for such it proved to be, passed her without 
noticing her form, which was so enveloped as to be as 5 
little ^conspicuous as possible, humming a low air to him- 
self, and probably thinking of some other fair that he had 
left on the banks of the Potomac. 

s ^ Frances listened anxiously to the retreating footsteps of 
his horse, and, as they died upon her ear, she ventured 10 
from her place of secrecy, and advanced a short distance 
into the field, where, startled at the gloom, and appalled 
with the dreariness of the prospect, she paused to reflect 
on what she had undertaken. Throwing back the hood 
of her cardinal,® she sought the support of a tree, and gazed 15 
towards the summit of the mountain that was to be the 
I goal of her enterprise. It rose from the plain like a huge 
pyramid, giving nothing to the eye but its outlines. The 
pinnacle could be faintly discerned in front of a lighter 
back-ground of clouds, between which a few glimmering 20 
..stars occasionally twinkled in momentary brightness, and 
then gradually became obscured by the passing vapour 
that was moving before the wind, at a vast distance below 
the clouds themselves. Should she return, Henry and Ihe 
pedler would most probably pass the night in fancied 25 
security upon that very hill, towards which she was strain- 
I ing her eyes, in the vain hope of observing some light that 
[ might encourage her to proceed. The deliberate, and 
I what to her seemed cold-blooded, project of the officer for 
(. the recapture of the fugitives, still rang in her ears, and 30 
stimulated her to go on; but the solitude into which she 
I must venture, the time, the actual danger of the ascent, 
and the uncertainty of her finding the hut, or what was 
I still more disheartening, the chance that it might be occu- 
l pied by unknown tenants, and those of the worst descrip- 35 
r tion — urged her to retreat. 

1 The increasing darkness was each moment rendering 
objects less and less distinct, and the clouds were gather- 
ing more gloomily in the rear of the hill, until its form 
could no longer be discerned. Frances threw back her 40 
[rich curls with both hands on her temples, in order to 
2a 


354 


THE SPY 


possess her senses in their utmost keenness; but the tower- 
ing hill was entirely lost to the eye. At length she dis- 
covered a faint and twinkling blaze in the direction in 
which she thought the building stood, that by its reviving 
5 and receding lustre, might be taken fo” the glimmering of 
a fire. But the delusion vanished, as the horizon again 
cleared, and the star of evening shone forth from a cloud, 
after struggling hard, as if for existence. She now saw 
the mountain to the left of the place where the planet was 
lo shining, and suddenly a streak of mellow light burst upon 
the fantastic oaks that were thinly scattered over its sum- 
mit, and gradually moved down its side, until the whole 
pile became distinct under the rays of the rising moon. 
Although it would have been physically impossible for our 
15 heroine to advance without the aid of the friendly light, 
which now gleamed on the long line of level land before 
her, yet she was not encouraged to proceed. If she could 
see the goal of her wishes, she could also perceive the diffi- 
culties that must attend her reaching it. 

20 While deliberating in distressing incertitude, now shrink- 
ing with the timidity of her sex and years from the enter- 
prise, and now resolving to rescue her brother at every 
hazard, Frances turned her looks towards the east, in 
earnest gaze at the clouds which constantly threatened to 
25 involve her again in comparative darkness. Had an adder 
stung her, she could not have sprung with greater celerity 
than she recoiled from the object against which she was 
leaning, and which she, for the first time, noticed. The 
two upright posts, with a cross-beam on their tops, and a 
30 rude platform beneath, told but too plainly the nature of 
the structure; even the cord was suspended from an iron 
staple, and was swinging, to and fro, in the . night air. 
Frances hesitated no longer, but rather flew than ran 
across the meadow, and was soon at the base of the rock, 
35 where she hoped to find something like a path to the sum- 
mit of the mountain. Here she was compelled to pause 
for breath, and she improved the leisure by surveying the 
ground about her. The ascent was quite abrupt, but she ; 
soon found a sheep-path that wound among the shelving 
40 rocks and through the trees, so as to render her labour 
much less tiresome than it otherwise would have been. ' 


THE SPY 


355 


Throwing a fearful glance behind, the determined girl 
commenced her journey upwards. Young, active, and 
impelled by her generous motive, she moved up the hill 
with elastic steps, and very soon emerged from the cover 
of the woods, into an open space of more level ground, 5- 
that had evidently been cleared of its timber, for the pur- 
pose of cultivation. But either the war, or the sterility 
of the soil, had compelled the adventurer to abandon the 
advantages that he had obtained over the wilderness, and 
already the bushes and briers were springing up afresh, 10 
as if the plough had never traced its furrows through the 
mould which nourished them. 

Frances. felt her spirits invigorated by these faint vestiges 
of the labour of man, and she walked up the gentle ac- 
clivity, with renewed hopes of success. The path now 15 
diverged in so many different directions, that she soon 
saw it would be useless to follow their windings, and aban- 
doning it, at the first turn, she laboured forward towards 
what she thought was the nearest point of the summit. 
The cleared ground was soon past, and woods and rocks, 20 
clinging to the precipitous sides of the mountain, again 
opposed themselves to her progress. Occasionally, the 
path was to be seen running along the verge of the clear- 
ing, and then striking oft' into the scattering patches of 
grass and herbage, but in no instance could she trace it 25 
upward. Tufts of wool, hanging to the briers, sufficiently 
denoted the origin of these tracks, and Frances rightly 
conjectured that whoever descended the mountain, would 
avail himself of their existence, to lighten the labour. 
Seating herself on a stone, the wearied girl again paused to 30 
rest and to reflect : the clouds were rising before the moon, 
and the whole scene at her feet lay pictured in the softest 
colours. 

The white tents of the militia were stretched in regular 
lines, immediately beneath her. The light was shining in 35 
the window of her aunt, who, Frances easily fancied, was 
watching the mountain, racked with all the anxiety she 
might be supposed to feel for her niece. Lanterns were 
playing about in the stable-yard, where she knew the 
horses of the dragoons were kept, and believing them to 40 
be preparing for their night march, she again sprang upon 
her feet, and renewed her toil. 


356 


THE SPY 


Our heroine had to ascend more than a quarter of a 
mile farther, although she had already conquered two- 
thirds of the height of the mountain. But she was now 
without a path, or any guide to direct her in her course. 

5 Fortunately, the hill was conical, like most of the moun- 
tains in that range, and, by advancing upwards, she was 
certain of at length reaching the desired hut, which hung, 
as it were, on the very pinnacle. Nearly an hour did she 
struggle with the numerous difficulties that she was obliged 
lo to overcome, when, having been repeatedly exhausted with 
her efforts, and, in several instances, in great danger from 
falls, she succeeded in gaining the small piece of table-^ 
land on the summit. 

Faint with her exertions, which had been unusually 
15 severe for so slight a frame, she sank on a rock, to recover 
her strength and fortitude for the approaching interview. 

A few moments sufficed for this purpose, when she proceeded 
in quest of the hut. All of the neighbouring hills were 
distinctly visible by the aid of the moon, and Frances was 
20 able, where she stood, to trace the route of the highway, 
from the plains into the mountains. By following this 
line with her eyes, she soon discovered the point whence 
she had seen the mysterious dwelling, and directly opposite 
to that point she well knew the hut must stand. 

25 The chilling air sighed through the leafless branches of 
the gnarled and crooked oaks, as with a step so light as 
hardly to rustle the dry leaves on which she trod, Frances 
moved forward to that part of the hill where she expected 
to find this secluded habitation; but nothing could she 
30 discern that in the least resembled a dwelling of any sort. 
In vain she examined every recess of the rocks, or inquisi- 
tively explored every part of the summit that she thought 
could hold the tenement of the pedler. No hut, nor any 
vestige of a human being, could she trace. The idea of 
35 her solitude struck on the terrified mind of the affrighted 
girl, and approaching to the edge of a shelving rock, she 
bent forward to gaze on the signs of life in the vale, when 
a ray of keen light dazzled her eyes, and a warm air diffused 
itself over her whole frame. Recovering from her sur- 
40 prise, Frances looked on the ledge beneath her, and at 
once perceived that she stood directly over the object of 


THE SPY 


357 


her search. A hole through its roof afforded a passage to 
the smoke, which as it blew aside, showed her a clear and 
cheerful fire crackling and snapping on a rude hearth of 
stone. The approach to the front of the hut was by a 
winding path around the point of the rock on which she 5 
stood, and by this she advanced to its door. 

Three sides of this singular edifice, if such it could be 
I called, were composed of logs laid alternately on each 
I other, to a little more than the height of a man; and the 
I fourth was formed by the rock against which it leaned. 10 
I The roof was made of the bark of trees, laid in long strips 
I from the rock to its eaves; the fissures between the logs 
i had been stuffed with clay, which in. many places had fallen 
out, and dried leaves were made use of as a substitute to 
keep out the wind. A single window of four panes of 15 
glass was in front, but a board carefully closed it, in such 
a manner as to emit no light, from the fire within. After 
pausing some time to view this singularly constructed 
hiding-place, for such Frances well knew it to be, she ap- 
plied her eye to a crevice to examine the inside. There 20 
was no lamp or candle, but the blazing fire of dry wood 
made the interior of the hut light enough to read by. In 
one corner lay a bed of straw, with a pair of blankets thrown 
carelessly over it, as if left where they had last been used. 
Against the walls and rock were suspended, from pegs 25 
forced into the crevices, various garments, and such as 
were apparently fitted for all ages and conditions, and for 
either sex. British and American uniforms hung peace- 
ably by the side of each other ; and on the peg that sup- 
ported a gown of striped calico, such as was the usual 30 
country wear, was also depending a well-powdered wig: 
in short, the attire was numerous, and as various as if a 
whole parish were to be equipped from this one wardrobe. 

In the angle against the rock, and opposite to the fire 
which was burning in the other corner, was an open cup- 35 
board, that held a plate or two, a mug, and the remains 
of some broken meat. Before the fire was a table, with 
one of its legs fractured, and made of rough boards; these, 
with a single stool, composed the furniture, if we except a 
few articles of cooking. A book that, by its size and shape, 40 
appeared to be a Bible, was lying on the table, unopened. 


358 


THE SPY 


But it was the occupant of the hut in whom Frances was 
chiefly interested. This was a man, sitting on the stool, 
with his head leaning on his hand, in such a manner as to 
conceal his features, and deeply occupied in examining 
5 some open papers. On the table lay a pair of curiously 
and richly mounted horseman’s pistols, and the handle of 
a sheathed rapier, of exquisite workmanship, protruded 
from between the legs of the gentleman, one of whose 
hands carelessly rested on its guard. The tall stature of 
lo this unexpected tenant of the hut, and his form, much 
more athletic than that of either Ilarvey or her brother, 
told Frances, without the aid of his dress, that it was 
neither of those she sought. A close surtout was buttoned 
high in the throat of the stranger, and parting at his knees, 
IS showed breeches of buff, with military boots and spurs. 
His hair was dressed so as to expose the whole face; and, 
after the fashion of that day, it was profusely powdered. 
A round hat was laid on the stones that formed a paved 
floor to the hut, as if to make room for a large map, which, 
20 among the other papers, occupied the table. 

This was an unexpected event to our adventurer. She 
had been so confident that the figure twice seen was the 
pedler, that on learning his agency in her brother’s escape, 
she did not in the least doubt of finding them both in the 
25 place, which, she now discovered, was occupied by another 
and a stranger. She stood, earnestly looking through the 
crevice, hesitating whether to retire, or to wait with the 
expectation of yet meeting Henry, as the stranger moved 
his hand from before his eyes, and raised his face, ap- 
30 parently in deep musing, when Frances instantly recognised 
the benevolent and strongly marked, but composed, features 
of Harper. 

All that Dunwoodie had said of his power and disposi- 
tion; all that he had himself promised her brother, and 
35 all the confidence that had been created by his dignified 
and paternal manner, rushed across the mind of Frances, 
who threw open the door of the hut, and falling at his 
feet, clasped his knees with her arms, as she cried — 

“ Save him — - save him — save my brother ; remember 
40 your promise, and save him!” 

Harper had risen as the door opened, and there was a 


THE SPY 


359 


slight movement of one hand towards his pistols; but it 
was cool, and instantly checked. He raised the hood of 
the cardinal, which had fallen over her features, and ex- 
claimed, with some uneasiness — 

‘‘Miss Wharton ! But you cannot be alone?” 5 

“There is none here but my God and you; and by his 
sacred name, I conjure you to remember your promise, 
and save my brother !” 

Harper gently raised her from her knees, and placed her 
on the stool, begging her at the same time to be composed, 10 
and to acquaint him with the nature of her errand. This 
Frances instantly did, ingenuously admitting him to a 
knowledge of all her views in visiting that lone spot at 
such an hour, and by herself. 

It was at all times difficult to probe the thoughts of one 15 
who held his passions in such disciplined subjection as 
Harper, but still there was a lighting of his thoughtful 
eye, and a slight unbending of his muscles, as the hurried 
and anxious girl proceeded in her narrative. His interest, 
as she dwelt upon the manner of Henry’s escape, and the 20 
flight to the woods, was deep and manifest, and he listened 
to the remainder of her tale with a marked expression of 
benevolent indulgence. Her apprehensions, that her 
brother might still be too late through the mountains, 
seemed to have much weight with him, for, as she concluded, 25 
he walked a turn or two across the hut, in silent musing. 

Frances hesitated, and unconsciously played with the 
handle of one of the pistols, and the paleness that her fears 
had spread over her fine features began to give place to 
a rich tint, as, after a short pause, she added — _ 30 

“We can depend much on the friendship of Major Dun- 
woodie, but his sense of honour is so pure, that — that — • 
notwithstanding his — his — feelings — his desire to serve 
us — he will conceive it to be his duty to apprehend my 
brother again. Besides, he thinks there will be no .danger 35 
in so doing, as he relies greatly on your interference.” 

“On mine!” said Harper, raising his eyes in surprise. 
“Yes, on yours. When we told him of your kind lan- 
guage, he at once assured us all, that you had the power, 
and if you had promised, would have the inclination, to 40 
procure Henry’s pardon.” 


360 


THE SPY 


‘'Said he more?” asked Harper, who appeared slightly 
uneasy. 

“Nothing but reiterated assurances of Henry’s safety; 
even now he is in quest of you.” 

5 “Miss Wharton, that I bear no mean part, in the un- 
happy struggle between England and America, it might 
now be useless to deny. You owe your brother’s escape, 
this night, to my knowledge of his innocence, and the 
remembrance of my word. Major Dunwoodie is mistaken, 
lo when he says that I might openly have procured his par- 
don. I now, indeed, can control his fate, and I pledge to 
you a word which has some influence with Washington, 
that means shall be taken to prevent his re-capture. But 
from you, also, I exact a promise, that this interview, 
15 and all that has passed between us, remain confined to your 
own bosom, until you have my permission to speak upon 
the subject.” 

Frances gave the desired assurance, and he continued — ■ 

“The pedler and your brother will soon be here, but I 
20 must not be seen by the royal officer, or the life of Birch 
might be the forfeiture.” 

“ Never !” cried Frances, ardently; “Henry could never 
be so base as to betray the man who saved him.” 

“ It is no childish game that we are now playing, Miss 
25 Wharton. Men’s lives and fortunes hang upon slender 
threads, and nothing must be left to accident that can be 
guarded against Did Sir Henry Clinton know that the 
pedler had communion with me, and under such circum- 
stances, the life of the miserable man would be taken in- 
30 stantly ; therefore, as you value human blood, or remem- 
ber the rescue of your brother, be prudent, and be silent. 
Communicate what you know to them both, and urge 
them to instant departure. If they can reach the last 
pickets of our army before morning, it shall be my care 
35 that there are none to intercept them. There is better 
work for Major Dunwoodie than to be exposing the life of 
his friend.” 

While Harper was speaking, he carefully rolled up the 
map he had been studying, and placed it, together with 
40 sundry papers that were also open, into his pocket. He 
was still occupied in this manner, when the voice of the 


THE SPY 


361 


pedler, talking in unusually loud tones, was heard directly 
over their heads. 

“Stand further this way, Captain Wharton, and you 
can see the tents, in the moonshine. But let them mount 
and ride; I have a nest, here, that will hold us both, and 5 
we will go in at our leisure.’’ 

“And where is this nest? I confess that I have eaten 
but little the last two days, and I crave some of the cheer 
you mention.” 

“Hem!” said the pedler, exerting his voice still more; 10 
“hem — this fog has given me a cold; but move slow — 
and be careful not to slip, or you may land on the bayonet 
of the sentinel on the flats; ’tis a steep hill to rise, but one 
can go down it with ease.” 

Harper pressed his finger on his lip, to remind Frances of 15 
her promise, and, taking his pistols and hat, so that no 
vestige of his visit remained, he retired deliberately to a 
far corner of the hut, where, lifting several articles of dress, 
he entered a recess in the rock, and, letting them fall again, 
was hid from view. Frances noticed, by the strong fire- 20 
light, as he entered, that it was a natural cavity, and con- 
tained nothing but a few more articles of domestic use. 

The surprise of Henry and the pedler, on entering and 
finding Frances in possession of the hut, may be easily 
imagined. Without waiting for explanat'ons or questions, 25 
the warm-hearted girl flew into the arms of her brother, 
and gave a vent to her emotions in tears. But the pedler 
seemed struck with very different feelings. H's first look 
was at the fire, which had been recently supplied with fuel; 
he then drew open a small drawer of the table, and looked 3° 
a little alarmed at finding it empty. 

“Are you alone. Miss Fanny?” he asked, in a quick 
voice; “you did not come here alone?” 

“As you see me, Mr. Birch,” said Frances, raising her- 
self from her brother’s arms, and turning an expressive 35 
glance towards the secret cavern, that the quick eye of 
the pedler instantly understood. 

“But why and wherefore are you here?” exclaimed 
her astonished brother; “and how knew you of this place 
at all?” 40 

Frances entered at once into a brief detail of what had 


362 


THE SPY 


occurred at the house since their departure, and the motives 
which induced her to seek them. 

“But,’' said Birch, “why follow us here, when we were 
left on the opposite hill?” 

5 Frances related the glimpse that she had caught of the 
hut and pedler, in her passage through the Highlands, as 
well as her view of him on that day, and her immediate 
conjecture that the fugitives would seek the shelter of this 
habitation for the night. Birch examined her features as, 
lo with open ingenuousness, she related the simple incidents 
that had made her mistress of his secret; and, as she 
ended, he sprang upon his feet, and, striking the window 
with the stick in his hand, demolished it at a blow. 

“’Tis but little luxury or comfort that I know,” he said, 
IS “but even that little cannot be enjoyed in safety 1 Miss 
Wharton,” he added, advancing before Fanny, and speak- 
ing with the bitter melancholy that was common to him, 
“I am hunted through these hills like a beast of the forest; 
but whenever, tired with my toils, I can reach this spot, 
20 poor and dreary as it is, I can spend my solitary nights in 
safety. Will you aid to make the life of a wretch still 
more miserable?” 

“Never!” cried Frances, with fervour; “your secret is 
safe with me.” 

25 “Major Dunwoodie — ” said the pedler, slowly, turning 
an eye upon her that read her soul. 

Frances lowered her head upon her bosom, for a mo- 
ment, in shame; then, elevating her fine and glowing face, 
she added, with enthusiasm — 

30 “Never, never, Harvey, as God may hear my prayers!” 

The pedler seemed satisfied; for he drew back, and, 
watching his opportunity, unseen by Henry, slipped be- 
hind the screen, and entered the cavern. 

Frances and her brother, who thought his companion 
35 had passed through the door, continued conversing on the 
latter’s situation for several minutes, when the former 
urged the necessity of expedition on his part, in order to 
precede Dunwoodie, from whose sense of duty they knew 
they had no escape. The Captain took out his pocket- 
40 book, and wrote a few lines with his pencil; then folding 
the paper, he handed it to his sister.'' 


THE SPY 


363 


‘‘ Frances/’ he said, “you have this night proved your- 
self to be an incomparable woman. As you love me, give 
that unopened to Dunwoodie, and remember that two 
hours may save my life.” 

“1 will — I will; but why delay? Why not fly, and 5 
, improve these precious moments?” 

! “Your sister says well, Captain Wharton,’ exclaimed 
I Harvey, who had re-entered unseen; “we must go at 
once. Here is food to eat, as we travel.” 

“But who is to see this fair creature in safety?” cried 10 
the Captain. “I can never desert my sister in such a 
place as this.” 

“Leave me! leave me!” said Frances; “I can descend 
as I came up. Do not doubt me; you know not my 
courage nor my strength.” 15 

“I have not known you, dear girl, it is true; but now, 
as I learn your value, can I quit you here? Never, never !” 

“Captain Wharton,” said Birch, throwing open the 
door, “you can trifle with your own lives, if you have 
many to spare; I have but one, and must nurse it. Do I 20 
go alone, or not?” 

“Go, go, dear Henry,” said Frances, embracing him; 
“go; remember our father; remember Sarah.” She 
waited not for his answer, but gently forced him through 
the door, and closed it with her own hands. 25 

For a short time there was a warm debate between 
Henry and the pedler; but the latter finally prevailed, 
and the breathless girl heard the successive plunges, as 
they went down the sides of the mountain at a rapid rate. 

Immediately after the noise of their departure had 30 
ceased, Harper re-appeared. He took the arm of Frances 
in silence, and led her from the hut. The way seemed 
familiar to him; for, ascending to the ledge above them, 
he led his companion across the table-land tenderly, point- 
ing out the little difficulties in their route, and cautioning 35 
her against injury. 

Frances felt, as she walked by the side of this extraordi- 
nary man, that she was supported by one of no common 
stamp. The firmness of his step, and the composure of 
his manner, seemed to indicate a mind settled and resolved. 40 
By taking a route over the back of the hill, they descended 


364 


THE SPY 


with great expedition, and but little danger. The distance 
it had taken Frances an hour to conquer, was passed by 
Harper and his companion in ten minutes, and they entered 
the open space already mentioned. He struck into one of 
5 the sheep-paths, and, crossing the clearing with rapid 
steps, they came suddenly upon a horse, caparisoned for 
a rider of no mean rank. The noble beast snorted and 
pawed the earth, as his master approached and replaced 
the pistols in the holsters. 

lo Harper then turned, and, taking the hand of Frances, 
spoke as follows : — 

“You have this night saved your brother, Miss Whar- 
ton. It would not be proper for me to explain why there 
are limits to my ability to serve him; but if you can de- 
15 tain the horse for two hours, he is assuredly safe. After 
what you have already done, I can believe you equal to 
any duty. God has denied to me children, young lady; 
but if it had been his blessed will that my marriage should 
not have been childless, such a treasure as yourself would 
20 I have asked from his mercy. But you are my child : all 
who dwell in this broad land are my children, and my care; 
and take the blessing of one who hopes yet to meet you in 
happier days.” 

As he spoke, with a solemnity that touched Frances to 
25 the heart, he laid his hand impressively upon her head. 
The guileless girl turned her face towards him, and the 
hood again falling back, exposed her lovely features to the 
moonbeams. A tear was glistening on either cheek, and 
her mild blue eyes were gazing upon him in reverence. 

30 Harper bent and pressed a paternal kiss upon her fore- 
head, and continued — “Any of these sheep-paths will : 
take you to the plain; but here we must part — I have 1 
much to do, and far to ride; forget me in all but your I 
prayers.” i 

35 He then mounted his horse, and lifting his hat, rode 
towards the back of the mounta’n, descending at the same 
time, and was soon hid by the trees. Frances ’sprang for- 
ward with a lightened heart, and taking the first path that 
led downwards, in a few minutes she reached the plain 
40 in safety. While busied in stealing through the meadows 
towards the house, the noise of horse approaching startled*! 


THE SPY 


365 


:l her, and she felt how much more was to be apprehended 
from man, in some situations, than from solitude. Hiding 
her form in the angle of a fence near the road, she remained 
» quiet for a moment, and watched their passage. A small 
I party of dragoons, whose dress was different from the 5 
I Virginians, passed at a brisk trot. They were followed 
I by a gentleman, enveloped in a large cloak, whom she at 
: once knew to be Harper. Behind him rode a black in 
: livery, and two youths in uniform brought up the rear. 

I Instead of taking the road that led by the encampment, 10 
H they turned short to the left, and entered the hills. 

( Wondering who this unknown but powerful friend of 
her brother could be, Frances glided across the fields, and 
using due precautions in approaching the dwelling, re- 
gained her residence undiscovered and in safety. 15 


CHAPTER XXXI 


Hence, bashful cunning 
And prompt me, plain and holy innocence ; 

I am your wife, if you will marry me. 

Tempest. 

On joining Miss Peyton, Frances learnt that Dunwoodie 
was not yet returned; although, with a view to relieve 
Henry from the importunities of the supposed fanatic, he 
had desired a very respectable divine of their own church 
5 to ride up from the river and offer his services. This gentle- 
man was already arrived, and had been passing the half- 
hour he had been there, in a sensible and well-bred con- 
versat’on with the spinster, that in no degree touched 
upon their domestic affairs. 

lo To the eager enquiries of Miss Peyton, relative to her 
success in her romantic excursion, Frances could say no 
more than that she was bound to be silent, and to recom- 
mend the same precaution to the good maiden also. There 
was a smile playing around the beautiful mouth of Frances, 
15 while .she uttered this injunction, which satisfied her aunt 
that all was as it should be. She was urging her niece to 
take some refreshment after her fatiguing expedition, 
when the noise of a horseman riding to the door, announced 
the return of the Major. He had been found by the courier, 
20 who was despatched by Mason, impatiently waiting the 
return of Harper to the ferry, and immediately flew to the 
place where his friend had been confined, tormented by a 
thousand conflicting fears. The heart of Frances bounded 
as she listened to his approaching footsteps. It w’anted 
25 yet an hour to the termination of the shortest period that 
the pedler had fixed as the time necessary to effect his 
escape. Even Harper, powerful and well-disposed as he 
acknowledged himself to be, had laid great stress upon the 
importance of detaining the Virginians during that hour. 

366 


THE SPY 


367 


She, however, had not time to rally her thoughts, before 
Dunwoodie entered one door, as Miss Peyton, with the 
readiness of female instinct, retired through another. 

The countenance of Peyton was flushed, and an air of 
vexation and disappointment pervaded his manner. 5 

“’Twas imprudent, Frances; nay, it was unkind,” he 
cried, throwing himself in a chair, “to fly at the very 
moment that I had assured him of safety ! I can almost 
persuade myself that you delight in creating points of 
difference in our feelings and duties.” lo 

“In our duties there may very possibly be a difference,” 
returned his mistress, approaching, and leaning her slender 
form against the wall; “but not in our feelings, Peyton. 
You must certainly rejoice in the escape of Henry !” 

“There was no danger impending. He had the promise 15 
of Harper; and it is a word never to be doubted. Oh! 
Frances ! Frances ! had you known the man, you would 
never have distrusted his assurance; nor would you have 
again reduced me to this distressing alternative.” 

“What alternative?” asked Frances, pitying his emo- 20 
tions deeply, but eagerly seizing upon every circumstance 
to prolong the interview. 

“What alternative! am I not compelled to spend this 
night in the saddle to recapture your brother, when I had 
thought to lay my head on its pillow, with the happy con- 25 
sciousness of having contributed to his release? You 
make me seem your enemy; I, who would cheerfully shed 
the last drop of blood in your service. I repeat, Frances, 
it was rash; it was unkind; it was a sad, sad mistake.” 

She bent towards him, and timidly took one of his hands, 3° 
while with the other she gently removed the curls from his 
burning brow. 

“Why go at all, dear Peyton?” she asked. “You have 
done much fpr your country, and she cannot exact such a 
sacrifice as this at your hand.” 35 

“Frances! Miss Wharton!” exclaimed the youth, 
springing on his feet, and pacing the floor with a cheek 
that burnt through its brown covering, and an eye that 
sparkled with wounded integrity; “it is not my country, 
but my honour, that requires the sacrifice. Has he not 40 
fled from a guard of my own corps? But for this, I might 


368 


THE SPY 


have been spared the blow I But if the eyes of the Vir- 
ginians are blinded to deception and artifice, their horses 
are swift of foot, and their sabres keen. We shall see, 
before to-morrow’s sun, who will presume to hint that 
5 the beauty of the sister furnished a mask to conceal the 
brother! Yes, yes; I should like, even now,” he con- 
tinued, laughing bitterly, “to hear the villain who would 
dare to surmise that such treachery existed!” 

“Peyton, dear Peyton,” said Frances, recoiling from his 
lo angry eye, “you curdle my blood — would you kill my 
brother? ” 

“Would I not die for him!” exclaimed Dunwoodie, as 
he turned to her more mildly; “you know I would; but 
I am distracted with the cruel surmise to which this step 
15 of Henry’s subjects me. What will Washington think of 
me, should he learn that I ever became your husband?” 

“If that alone impels you to act so harshly towards my 
brother,” returned Frances, with a slight tremor in her 
voice, “let it never happen for him to learn.” 

20 “And this is consolation, Frances!” 

“Nay, dear Dunwoodie, I meant nothing harsh or un- 
kind; but are you not making us both of more conse- 
quence with Washington than the truth will justify?” 

“I trust that my name is not entirely unknown to the 
25 Commander-in-chief,” said the Major, a little proudly; 
“nor are you as obscure as your modesty would make 
jmu. I believe you, Frances, when you say that you pity 
me, and it must be my task to continue worthy of such 
feelings. But I waste the precious moments; we must go 
30 through the hills to-night, that we may be refreshed in 
time for the duty of to-morrow. Mason is already wait- 
ing my orders to mount. Frances, I leave you with a 
heavy heart; pity me, but feel no concern for your brother; 
he must again become a prisoner, but every hair of his head 
35 is sacred.” 

“Stop! Dunwoodie, I conjure you,” cried Frances, gasp- 
ing for breath, as she noticed that the hand of the clock 
still wanted many minutes to the desired hour; “before 
you go on your errand of fastidious duty, read this note 
40 that Henry has left for you, and which, doubtless, he 
thought he was writing to the friend of his youth.” 


THE SPY 


369 


• “Frances, I excuse your feelings; but the time will come 
I when you will do me justice.-’ 

I “That time is now,” she answered, extending her hand, 

') unable any longer to feign a displeasure that she did not 
I feel. 5 

I “Where got you this note?” exclaimed the youth, 
jl glancing his eyes over its contents. “Poor Henry, you are 
'll indeed my friend ! If any one wishes me happiness, it is 
1 ! you!” 

I “He does, he does,” cried Frances, eagerly; “he wishes lo 
(. you every happiness; believe what he tells you; every 
l! word is true.” 

) “I do believe him, lovely girl, and he refers me to you 
l[ for its confirmation. Would that I could trust equally to 
>j your affections S” 15 

■ “You may, Peyton,” said Frances, looking up with 
I innocent confidence towards her lover. 

I “Then read for yourself, and verify your words,” inter- 
rupted Dunwoodie, holding the note towards her. 

Frances received it in astonishment, and read the fol- 20 
lowing : — 

is too precious to he trusted to uncertainties. I leave 
you, Peyton, unknown to all but Ccesar, and I recommend 
him to your mercy. But there is a care that weighs me to the 
earth. Look at my aged and infirm parent. He will be re- 25 
proached for the supposed crime of his son. Look at those 
helpless sisters that I leave behind me without a protector. 
Prove to me that you love us all. Let the clergyrnan whom 
you will bring with you, unite you this night to Frances, and 
become at once, brother, son, and husband.” 3 ° 

The paper fell from the hands of Frances, and she en- 
deavoured to raise her eyes to the face of Dunwoodie, but 
they sank abashed to the floor. 

“Am 1 worthy of this confidence? Will you send me 
out this night, to meet my own brother? or will it be the 35 
officer of Congress in quest of the officer of Britain?” 

“And would you do less of your duty because I am 
your wife. Major Dunwoodie? in what degree would it 
better the condition of Henry?” 

“Henry, I repeat, is safe. The word of Harper is his 40 
guarantee; but I will show the world a bridegroom,” con- 

2 B 


370 


THE SPY 




tinned the youth, perhaps deceiving himself a little, “who v 
is equal to the duty of arresting the brother of his bride.” « 
“And will the world comprehend this refinement?” said 1 
Frances, with a musing air, that lighted a thousand hopes ^ 
5 in the bosom of her lover. In fact, the temptation was • 
mighty. Indeed, there seemed no other way to detain 
Dunwoodie until the fatal hour had elapsed. The words \ 
of Harper himself, who had so lately told her that openly 
he could do but little for Henry, and that every thing de- i 
lo pended upon gaining time, were deeply engraved upon f 
her memory. Perhaps there was also a fleeting thought ; 
of the possibility of an eternal separation from her lover, 
should he proceed and bring back her brother to punish- : 
ment. It is difficult at all times to analyse human emo- ' 
15 tions, and they pass through the sensitive heart of a woman 
with the rapidity and nearly with the vividness of light- 
ning. j 

“ Why do you hesitate, dear Frances? ” cried Dunwoodie, ‘ 
who was studying her varying countenance; “a few minutes 
20 might give me a husband’s claim to protect you.” -i 

Frances grew giddy. She turned an anxious eye to the 
clock, and the hand seemed to linger over its face, as if ; 
with intent to torture her. 

“Speak, Frances,” murmured Dunwoodie; “may I ^ 
25 summon my good kinswoman ? determine, for time presses.” 1 
She endeavoured to reply, but could only whisper some- ] 
thing that was inaudible, but which her lover, with the | 
privilege of immemorial custom, construed into assent. ) 
He turned and flew to the door, when his mistress recovered 
30 her voice — 

“Stop, Peyton! I cannot enter into such a solemn en- ^ 
gagement with a fraud upon my conscience. I have seen t 
Henry since his escape, and time is all-important to him. f 
Here is my hand; if, with this knowledge of the conse- ' 
35 quences of delay, you will not reject it, it is freely yours.” ; 
“Reject it!” cried the delighted youth; “I take it as •. 
the richest gift of Heaven. There is time enough for us 
all. Two hours will take me through the hills; and by 
noon, to-morrow, I will return with Washington’s pardon ; 
40 for your brother, and Henry will help to enliven our / 
nuptials.” £ 


THE SPY 


371 


“Then meet me here, in ten minutes,’’ said Frances, 
greatly relieved by unbnrthening her mind, and filled with 
the hope of securing Henry’s safety, “and I will return 
and take those vows, which will bind me to you for ever.” 

I Dunwoodie paused only to press her once to his bosom, s 
and flew to communicate his wishes to the priest. 

Miss Peyton received the avowal of her niece with in- 
finite astonishment, and a little displeasure. It was vio- 
lating all the order and decorum of a wedding to get it 
up so hastily, and with so little ceremony. But Frances, lo 
with modest firmness, declared that her resolution was 
taken; she had long possessed the consent of her friends, 
and their nuptials, for months, had only waited her pleas- 
ure. She had now promised Dunwoodie, and it was her 
wish to comply; more she dare not say without commit- 15 
ting herself, by entering into explanations that might en- 
danger Birch, or Harper, or both. Unused to contention, 
and really much attached to her kinsman, the feeble objec- 
tions of Miss Peyton gave way to the firmness of her niece. 
]\Ir. Wharton was too completely a convert to the doctrine 20 
of passive obedience and non-resistance, to withstand any 
solicitation from an officer of Dunwoodie’s influence in 
the rebel armies; and the maid returned to the apartment, 
accompanied by her father and aunt, at the expiration of 
the time that she had fixed. Dunwoodie and the clergy- 25 
man w'ere already there. Frances, silently, and without 
the affectation of reserve, placed in his hand the wedding- 
ring of her own mother, and after some little time spent in 
arranging Mr. Wharton and herself, Miss Peyton suffered 
the ceremony to proceed. 3° 

The clock stood directly before the eyes of Frances, and 
she turned many an anxious glance at the dial ; but the 
solemn language of the priest soon caught her attention, 
and her mind became intent upon the vows she was utter- 
ing. The ceremony was quickly over, and as the clergy- 35 
man closed the words of benediction, the clock told the 
hour of nine. This was the time that Harper had deemed 
so important, and Frances felt as if a mighty load was at 
once removed from her heart. 

Dunwoodie folded her in his arms, saluted the mild 40 
aunt again and again, and shook Mr. Wharton and the 


372 


THE SPY 


divine repeatedly by the hands. In the midst of the felici- 
tation, a tap was heard at the door. It was opened, and 
Mason appeared. 

“We are in the saddle,’’ said the Lieutenant, “and, with 
5 your permission, I will lead on; as you are so well mounted, 
you can overtake us at your leisure.” 

“Yes, yes, my good fellow; march,” cried Dunwoodie, 
gladly seizing an excuse to linger; “I will reach you at 
the first halt.” 

lo The subaltern retired to execute these orders; he was 
followed by Mr. Wharton and the divine. 

“Now, Peyton,” said Frances, “it is indeed a brother 
that you seek; I am sure I need not caution you in his 
behalf, should you unfortunately find him.” 

IS “Say fortunately,” cried the youth; “for I am deter- 
mined he shall yet dance at my wedding. Would that I 
could win him to our cause ! it is the cause of his country; 
and I could fight with more pleasure, Frances, with your 
brother by my side.” 

20 “Oh! mention it not 1 you awaken terrible reflections.” 

“I will not mention it,” returned her husband; “but I 
must now leave you. But the sooner I go, Frances, the 
sooner I shall return.” 

The noise of a horseman was heard approaching the 
25 house, and Dunwoodie was yet taking leave of his bride 
and her aunt, when an officer was shown into the room by 
his own man. 

The gentleman wore the dress of an aid-de-camp, and 
the Major at once knew him to be one of the military 
30 family of Washington. 

“Major Dunwoodie,” he said, after bowing to the ladies, 
“the Commander-in-chief has directed me to give you 
these orders.” 

He executed his mission, and, pleading duty, took his 
35 leave immediately. 

“Here, indeed!” cried the Major, “is an unexpected 
turn in the whole affair; but I understand it; Harper 
has got my letter, and already we feel his influence.” 

“Have you news affecting Henry?” cried Frances, 
40 springing to his side. 

“Listen, and you shall judge.” 


THE SPY 


373 


I ‘‘Sir Upon the receipt of this, you will concentrate your 
squadron, so as to he in front of a covering party which the 
enemy has sent up in front of his foragers, by ten o’clock to- 
morrow, on the heights of Croton, where you will find a body 
of foot to support you. The escape of the English spy has s 
been reported to me, hut his arrest is unimportant, compared 
with the duty I now assign you. You will, therefore, recall 
your men, if any are in pursuit, and endeavour to defeat the 
II enemy forthwith. 

“Your obedient servant, lo 

“Geo. Washington.’’ 

) “Thank God I” cried Dunwoodie, “my hands are washed 
of Henry’s recapture; I can now move to my duty with 
honour.” 

“And with prudence too, dear Peyton,” said Frances, 15 
with a face as pale as death; “remember, Dunwoodie, you 
leave behind you new claims on your life.” 

The youth dwelt on her lovely but pallid features with 
rapture ; and, as he folded her to his heart, exclaimed — 
“For your sake, I will, lovely innocent!” Frances 20 
sobbed a moment on his bosom, and he tore himself from 
her presence. 

Miss Peyton retired with her niece, to whom she con- 
ceived it necessary, before they separated for the night, 
to give an admonitory lecture on the subject of matri-25 
monial duty. Her instruction was modestly received, if 
not properly digested. We regret that history has not 
handed down to us this precious dissertation; but the 
result of all our investigation has been to learn that it 
partook largely of those peculiarities which are said to 30 
tincture the rules prescribed to govern bachelors’ children. 

We shall now leave the ladies of the Wharton family, and 
return to Captain Wharton and Harvey Birch. 


CHAPTER XXXII 


Allow him not a parting word ; 

Short be the shrift, and sure the cord ! 

Rokeby. 

The pedler and his companion soon reached the valley, 
and after pausing to listen, and hearing no sounds which 
announced that pursuers were abroad, they entered the 
highway. Acquainted with every step that led through 
5 the mountains, and possessed of sinews inured to toil, 
Birch led the way, with the lengthened strides that were 
peculiar to the man and his profession ; his pack alone was 
wanting to finish the appearance of his ordinary business 
air. At times, when they approached one of those little 
lo posts held by the American troops, with which the High- 
lands abounded, he would take a circuit to avoid the sen- 
tinels, and plunge fearlessly into a thicket, or ascend a 
rugged hill, that to the eye seemed impassable. But the 
pedler was familiar with every turn in their difficult route, 
15 knew where the ravines might be penetrated, or where the 
streams were fordable. In one or two instances, Henry 
thought that their further progress was absolutely at an 
end, but the ingenuit}^ or knowledge, of his guide, con- 
quered every difficulty. After \Valking at a great rate for 
20 three hours, they suddenly diverged from the road, which 
inclined to the east, and held their course directly across 
the hills, in a due south direction. This movement was 
made, the pedler informed his companion, in order to avoid 
the parties who constantly patrolcd in the southern en- 
25 trance of the Highlands, as well as to shorten the distance, 
by travelling in a straight line. After reaching the sum- 
mit of a hill, Harvey seated himself by the side of a little 
run, and opening a wallet, that he had slung where his 
pack was commonly suspended, he invited his comrade to 
30 partake of the coarse fare it contained. Henry had kept 
pace with the pedler, more by the excitement natural to 

374 


THE SPY 


375 


his situation, than by the equality of his physical powers. 
The idea of a halt was unpleasant, so long as there existed 
a possibility of the horse getting below him, in time to 
intercept their retreat through the neutral ground. He, 
therefore, stated his apprehensions to his companion, and 5 
urged a wish to proceed. 

“Follow my example. Captain Wharton,’’ said the ped- 
ler, commencing his frugal meal ; “if the hoj-se have started, 
it will be more than man can do to head them ; and if they 
have not, work is cut out for them, that will drive all 10 
thoughts of you and me from their brains.” 

“•You said yourself, that tw^o hours’ detention was all- 
important to us, and if we loiter here, of what use will be 
the advantage that we may have already obtained?” 

“The time is passed, and Major Dunwoodie thinks little 15 
of following two men, when hundreds are waiting for him, 
on the banks of the river.” 

“Listen!” interrupted Henry; “there are horse at 
this moment passing the foot of the hill. I hear them 
even laughing and talking to each other. Hist ! there is 20 
the voice of Dunwoodie himself; he calls to his comrade 
in a manner that shows but little uneasiness. One would 
think that the situation of his friend would lower his spirits ; 
surely Frances could not have given him the letter.” 

On hearing the first exclamation of the Captain, Birch 25 
arose from his seat, and approached cautiously to the 
brow of the hill, taking care to keep his body in the shadow 
of the rocks, so as to be unseen at any distance, and earnestly 
reconnoitred the group of passing horsemen. He continued 
listening, until their quick footsteps were no longer audible, 30 
and then quietly returned to his seat, and with incompara- 
ble coolness resumed his meal. 

“You have a long walk, and a tiresome one, before you. 
Captain Wharton ; you had better do as I do — you were 
eager for food at the hut above Fishkill, but travelling 35 
seems to have worn down your appetite.” 

“I thought myself safe then, but the information of my 
sister fills me with uneasiness, and I cannot eat.” 

“You have less reason to be troubled now than at any 
time since the night before you were taken, when you 40 
refused my ad\dce, and an offer to see you in, in safety,” 


376 


THE SPY 


returned the pedler. “Major Dunwoodie is not a man to 
laugh and be gay, when his friend is in difficulty. Come, 
then, and eat, for no horse will be in our way, if we can 
hold our legs for four hours longer, and the sun keeps be- 
5 hind the hills as long as common.’' 

There was a composure in the pedler’s manner that en- 
couraged his companion; and having once determined to 
submit to Har'^y’s government, he suffered himself to be 
persuaded into a tolerable supper, if quantity be considered 
lo without any reference to the quality. After completing 
their repast, the pedler resumed his journey. 

Henry followed in blind submission to his will. For two 
hours more they struggled with the difficult and dangerous 
passes of the Highlands, without road, or any other guide 
15 than the moon, which was travelling the heavens, now 
wading through flying clouds, and now shining brightly. 
At length they arrived at a point where the mountains 
sunk into rough and unequal hillocks, and passed at once 
from the barren sterility of the precipices, to the imperfect 
20 culture of the neutral ground. 

The pedler now became more guarded in the manner in 
which they proceeded, and took divers precautions to pre- 
vent meeting any moving parties of the Americans. With 
the stationary posts he was too familiar to render it prob- 
25 able he might fall upon any of them unawares. He wound 
among the hills and vales, now keeping the highways and 
now avoiding them, with a precision that seemed instinc- 
tive. There was nothing elastic in his tread, but he glided 
over the ground with enormous strides, and a body bent 
30 forward, without appearing to use exertion, or know 
weariness. 

The moon had set, and a faint streak of light was begin- 
ning to show itself in the east. Captain Wharton ven- 
tured to express a sense of fatigue, and to enquire if they 
35 were not yet arrived at a part of the country, where it ' 
might be safe to apply at some of the farm-houses for ad- 
mission. 

“See here,” said the pedler, pointing to a hill, at a short 
distance in their rear; “do you not see a man walking on 
40 the point of that rock? Turn, so as to bring the daylight 
in the range — now, see, he moves, and seems to be look- 


THE SPY 


377 


V 

ij ing earnestly at something to the eastward. That is a 

[ royal sentinel; two hundred of the rig’lar troops lay on 
that hill, no doubt sleeping on their arms.’’ 

“Then,” cried Henry, “let us join them, and our danger 
li is ended.” 5 

t “Softly, softly. Captain Wharton,” said the pedler, 
fi dryly, “you’ve once been in the midst of three hundred of 
|ll them, but there was a man who could take you out; see 
I; you not yon dark body, on the side of the opposite hill, 
jl' just above the corn-stalks? There are the — the rebels, lo 
I (since that is the word for us loyal subjects), waiting only 
L for day, to see who will be master of the ground.” 

1^ “Nay, then,” exclaimed the fiery youth, “I will join the 
i troops of my prince, and share their fortunes, be it good or 
fi be it bad.” 15 

|j “You forget that you fight with a halter round your 
j neck; no, no — I have promised one whom I must not 
! disappoint, to carry you safe in; and unless you forget 
what I have already done, and what I have risked for you. 
Captain Wharton, you will turn and follow me to Harlem.” 20 
To this appeal the youth felt unwillingly obliged to sub- 
mit; and they continued their course towards the city. 

It was not long before they gained the banks of the Hud- 
son. After searching for a short time under the shore, 
the pedler discovered a skiff, that appeared to be an old 25 
acquaintance; and entering it with his companion, he 
landed him on the south side of the Croton. Here Birch 
declared they were in safety; for the royal troops held 
the continentals at bay, and the former were out in too 
great strength, for the light parties of the latter to trust 3° 
themselves below that river, on the immediate banks of 
the Hudson. 

Throughout the whole of this arduous flight, the pedler 
had manifested a coolness and presence of mind that noth- 
ing appeared to disturb. All his faculties seemed to be of 35 
more than usual perfection, and the infirmities of nature to 
have no dominion over him. Henry had followed him 
like a child in leading-strings, and he now reaped his re- 
ward, as he felt a bound of pleasure at his heart, on hear- 
ing that he was relieved from apprehension, and permitted 40 
to banish every doubt of security. 


378 


THE SPY 


A steep and laborious ascent brought them from the 
level of the tide-waters to the high lands, that form, in this 
part of the river, the eastern banks of the Hudson. Re- 
tiring a little from the highway, under the shelter of a 
5 thicket of cedars, the pedler threw his form on a flat rock, 
and announced to his companion that the hour for rest 
and refreshment was at length arrived. The day was now 
opened, and objects could be seen in the distance, with 
distinctness. Beneath them lay the Hudson, stretching to 
lo the south in a straight line, as far as the eye could reach. 
To the north, the broken fragments of the Highlands 
threw upwards their lofty heads, above masses of fog that 
hung over the water, and by which the course of the river 
could be traced into the bosom of hills, whose conical sum- 
15 mits were grouping together, one behind another, in that 
disorder which might be supposed to have succeeded their 
gigantic, but fruitless, efforts to stop the progress of the 
flood. Emerging from these confused piles, the river, as if 
rejoicing at its release from the struggle, expanded into a 
20 wide bay, which was ornamented by a few fertile and low 
points that jutted humbly into its broad basin. On the 
opposite, or western shore, the rocks of Jersey w'ere gathered 
into an array that has obtained for them the name of the 
“ palisadoes,’’° elevating themselves for many hundred feet, 
25 as if to protect the rich country in their rear from the in- 
roads of the conqueror; but, disdaining such an enemy, 
the river swept proudly by their feet, and held its undeviat- 
ing way to the ocean. A ray of the rising sun darted upon 
the slight cloud that hung over the placid river, and at 
30 once the whole scene was in motion, changing and assum- 
ing new forms, and exhibiting fresh objects in each succes- 
sive moment. At the daily rising of this great curtain of 
nature, at the present time, scores of white sails and slug- 
gish vessels are seen thickening on the water, with that 
35 air of life which denotes the neighborhood to the me- 
tropolis of a great and flourishing empire; but to Henry 
and the pedler it displayed only the square yards and lofty 
masts of a vessel of war, riding a few miles below them. 
Before the fog had begun to move, the tall spars were seen 
40 above it, and from one of them a long pennant was feebly 
borne abroad in the current of niglit air, that still quivered 


THE SPY 


379 


along the river; but as the smoke arose, the black hull, 
the crowded and complicated mass of rigging, and the heavy 
yards and booms, spreading their arms afar, were succes- 
sively brought into view. . 

“There, Captain Wharton,’' said the pedler, “there is a 5 
safe resting-place for you; America has no arm that can 
reach you, if you gain the deck of that ship. She is sent 
up to cover the foragers, and support the troops; the rig’lar 
officers are fond of the sound of cannon from their ship- 
ping.” 10 

Without condescending to reply to the sarcasm con- 
veyed in this speech, or perhaps not noticing it, Henry 
joyfully acquiesced in the proposal, and it was accordingly 
arranged between them, that, as soon as they were refreshed, 
he should endeavour to get on board the vessel. 15 

While busily occupied in the very indispensable opera- 
tion of breaking their fast, our adventurers were startled 
with the sound of distant fire-arms. At first a few scatter- 
ing shots were fired, which were succeeded by a long and 
animated roll of musketry, and then quick and heavy volleys 20 
followed each other. 

“Your prophecy is made good,” cried the English officer, 
springing upon his feet. “Our troops and the rebels are 
at it ! — -I would give six months’ pay to see the charge.” 

“Umph!” returned his companion, without ceasing his 25 
meal; “they do very well to look at from a distance: I 
can’t say but the company of this bacon, cold as it is, is 
more to my taste, just now, than a hot fire from the con- 
tinentals.” 

“The discharges are heavy for so small a force; but the 30 
fire seems irregular.” 

“The scattering guns are from the Connecticut militia,” 
said Harvey, raising his head to listen; *‘they rattle it off 
finely, and are no fools at a mark. The volleys are the 
rig’lars, who, you know, fire by word — as long as they 35 
can.” 

“I like not the warmth of what you call a scattering 
fire,” exclaimed the Captain, moving about with uneasi- 
ness; “it is more like the roll of a drum than the shooting 
of skirmishers.” 

“No, no; 1 said not skrimmagers,” returned the other. 


380 


THE SPY 


raising himself upon a knee, and ceasing to eat; “so long as 
they stand, they are too good for the best troops in the 
royal army. Each man does his work, as if fighting by 
the job; and then, they think while they fight, and don’t 
5 send bullets among the clouds, that were meant to kill 
men upon earth.” 

“You talk and look, sir, as if you wished them success,” 
said Henry, sternly. 

“I wish success to the good cause only. Captain Whar- 
lo ton. I thought you knew me too well, to be uncertain 
which party 1 favoured.” 

“Oh I you are reputed loyal, Mr. Birch. — But the 
volleys have ceased!” 

Both now listened intently for a little while, during 
15 which the irregular reports became less brisk, and suddenly 
heavy and repeated volleys followed. 

“They’ve been at the bayonet,” said the pedler; “the 
rig’lars have tried the bayonet, and the rebels are driven.” 

“Ay, Mr. Birch, the bayonet is the thing for the British 
20 soldier, after all. They delight in the bayonet!” 

“Well, to my notion,” said the pedler, “there’s but little 
delight to be taken in any such fearful weapon. I dare 
say the militia are of my mind, for half of them don’t carry 
the ugly things. — Lord ! Tiord ! Captain, I wish you’d 
25 go with me once into the rebel camp, and hear what lies 
the men will tell about Bunker Hill and Burg’yne: you’d 
think they loved the bayonet as much as they do their 
dinners.” 

There was a chuckle, and an air of affected innocency 
30 about his companion, that rather annoyed Henry, and he 
did not deign to reply. 

The firing now became desultory, occasionally inter- 
mingled with heavy volleys. Both of the fugitives were 
standing, listening with much anxiety, when a man, armed 
35 with a musket, was seen stealing towards them, under the 
shelter of the cedar bushes, that partially covered the hill. 
Henry first observed this suspicious-looking stranger, and 
instantly pointed him out to his companion. Birch started, 
and certainly made an indication of sudden flight; but 
40 recollecting himself, he stood, in sullen silence, until the 
stranger was within a few yards of them. 


THE SPY 


381 


1 j “’Tis friends,” said the fellow, clubbing his gun, but 

1 apparently afraid to venture nearer. 

I “You had better retire,” said Birch; “here are rig’lars 
|| at hand. We are not near Dunwoodie’s horse now, and 
\ you will not find me an easy prize to-day.” 5 

j. “Damn Major Dunwoodie and his horse I” cried the 
} 1 | leader of the Skinners (for it was he); “God bless King 
j George! and a speedy end to the rebellion, say I. If you 
' would show me the safe way in to the refugees, Mr. Birch, 

; I’ll pay you well, and ever after stand your friend, in the 10 
i| bargain.” 

! ^ “The road is as open to you as to me,” said Birch, turn- 
I ing from him in ill-concealed disgust; “if you want to 
find the refugees, you know well w’here they lay.” 

“Ay, but Tm a little doubtful of going in upon them 15 
by myself : now, you are well known to them all, and it 
will be no detriment to you just to let me go in with you.” 

Henry here interfered, and after holding a short dialogue 
with the fellow, he entered into a compact with him, that, 
on condition of surrendering his arms, he might join the 20 
party. The man complied instantly, and Birch received 
his gun with eagerness; nor did he lay it upon his shoulder 
to renew their march, before he had carefully examined 
the priming, and ascertained, to his satisfaction, that it 
contained a good dry ball-cartridge. 25 

As soon as this engagement was completed, they com- 
menced their journey anew. By following the bank of the 
river, Birch led the way free from observation, until they 
reached the point opposite to the frigate, when, by making 
a signal, a boat was induced to approach. Some time was 30 
spent, and much precaution used, before the seamen would 
trust themselves ashore ; but Henry having finally succeeded 

I in making the officer who commanded the party credit his 
assertions, he was able to rejoin his companions in arms 
in safety. Before taking leave of Birch, the Captain handed 35 
him his purse, which was tolerably well supplied for the 
times ; the pedler received it, and, watching an opportunity, 
he conveyed it, unnoticed by the Skinner, to a part of his 
dress that was ingeniously contrived to hold such treasures. 

The boat pulled from the shore, and Birch turned on his 40 
heel, drawing his breath like one relieved, and shot up the 


382 


THE SPY 


hills with the strides for which he was famous. The Skinner 
followed, and each party pursued the common course, 
casting frequent and suspicious glances at the other, and 
both maintaining a most impenetrable silence. 

5 Wagons were moving along the river road, and occasional 
parties of horse were seen escorting the fruits of the inroad 
towards the city. As the pedler had views of his own, he 
rather avoided falling in with any of these patrols, than 
sought their protection. But, after travelling a few miles 
lo on the immediate banks of the river, during which, not- 
withstanding the repeated efforts of the Skinner to estab- 
lish something like sociability, he maintained a most 
determined silence, keeping a firm hold of the gun, and 
always maintaining a jealous watchfulness of his associate, 
15 the pedler suddenly struck into the highway, with an in- 
tention of crossing the hills towards Harlem. At the 
moment he gained the path, a body of horse came over a 
little eminence, and was upon him before he perceived them. 
It was too late to retreat, and after taking ^ view of the 
20 materials that composed this party, Birch rejoiced in the 
rencontre, as a probable means of relieving him from his 
unwelcome companion. There were some eighteen or 
twenty men, mounted and equipped as dragoons, though 
neither their appearance nor manners denoted much dis- 
25 cipline. At their head rode a heavy, middle-aged man, 
whose features expressed as much of animal courage, and 
as little of reason, as could be desired for such an occupa- 
tion. He wore the dress of an officer, but there was none 
of that neatness in his attire, nor grace in his movements, 
30 that was usually found about the gentlemen who bore the 
royal commission. His limbs were firm, and not pliable, 
and he sat his horse with strength and confidence, but his 
bridle-hand would have been ridiculed by the meanest rider 
amongst the Virginians. As he expected, this leader in- 
35 stantly hailed the. pedler, in a voice by no means more con- 
ciliating than his appearance. 

“Hey! my gentlemen, which way so fast?” he cried. 
“Has Washington sent you down as spies?” 

“I am an innocent pedler,” returned Harvey, meekly, 
40 “and am going below, to lay in a fresh stock of goods.” 

“And how do you expect to get below, my innocent ped- 


THE SPY 


383 


ler? Do you think we hold the forts at Kingsbridge to 
cover such peddling rascals as you, in your goings in, and 
comings out?” 

“I believe I hold a pass that will carry me through,” 
said the pedler, handing him a paper, with an air of great s 
indifference. 

The officer, for such he was, read it, and cast a look of 
surprise and curiosity at Harvey, when he had done. 

Then turning to one or two of his men, who had officiously 
stopped the way, he cried — lo 

“ Why do you detain the man ? give way, and let him pass 
in peace : but who have we here ? your name is not men- 
tioned in the pass !” 

“No, sir,” said the Skinner, lifting his hat with humility; 

“I have been a poor deluded man, who has been serving in 15 
the rebel army; but, thank God, I’ve lived to se^ the error 
of my ways, and am now come to make reparation, by 
enlisting under the Lord’s anointed.” 

“ Umph ! a deserter — a Skinner, I’ll swear, wanting to 
turn Cow-boy ! In the last brush I had with the scoundrels, 20 
I could hardly tell my own men from the enemy. We are 
not over well supplied with coats, and as for countenances, 
the rascals change sides so often, that you may as well 
count their faces for nothing; but trudge on, we will con- 
trive to make use of you, sooner or later.” 25 

Ungracious as was this reception, if you could judge of the 
Skinner’s feelings from his manner, it nevertheless de- 
lighted him. He moved with alacrity towards the city, 
and really was so happy to escape the brutal looks and 
frightful manner of his interrogator, as to lose sight of all 30 
other considerations. But the man who performed the 
functions of orderly in the irregular troop, rode up to the 
side of his commander, and commenced a close and appar- 
ently a confidential discourse with his principal. They 
spoke in whispers, and cast frequent and searching glances 35 
at the Skinner, until the fellow began to think himself an 
object of more than common attention. His satisfaction at 
this distinction was somewhat heightened, at observing a 
smile on the face of the Captain, which, although it might 
be thought grim, certainly denoted satisfaction. This 40 
pantomime occupied the time they were passing a hollow. 


384 


THE SPY 


and concluded as they rose another hill. Here the Captain 
and his sergeant both dismounted, and ordered the party to 
halt. The two partisans each took a pistol from his holster, 
a movement that excited no suspicion or alarm, as it was a 
5 precaution always observed, and beckoned to the pcdler 
and the Skinner to follow. A short walk brought them to 
a spot where the hill overhung the river, the ground falling 
nearly perpendicularly to the shore. On the brow of the 
eminence stood a deserted and dilapidated barn. Many 
lo boards of its covering were torn from their places, and its 
wide doors were lying, the one in front of the building, and 
the other half-way down the precipice, whither the wind 
had cast it. Entering this desolate spot, the refugee 
officer very coolly took from his pocket a short pipe, which, 
15 from long use, had acquired not only the hue but the gloss 
of ebony, a tobacco-box, and a small roll of leather, that 
contained steel, flint, and tinder. With this apparatus, he 
soon furnished his mouth with a companion that habit had 
long rendered necessary to reflection. So soon as a large 
20 column of smoke arose from this arrangement, the Captain 
significantly held forth a hand towards his assistant. * A 
small cord was produced from the pocket of the sergeant, 
and handed to the other. The refugee threw out vast puffs 
of smoke, until nearly all of his head was obscured, and 
25 looked around the building with an inquisitive eye. At 
length he removed the pipe, and inhaling a draught of pure 
air, returned it to its domicile, and proceeded at once to 
business. A heavy piece of timber lay across the girths of 
the barn, but a little way from the southern door, which 
30 opened directly upon a full view of the river, as it stretched 
far away towards the bay of New York. Over this beam 
the refugee threw one end of the rope, and, regaining it, 
joined the two parts in his hand. A small and weak barrel, 
that wanted a head, the staves of which were loose, and at 
35 one end standing apart, was left on the floor, probably as 
useless. The sergeant, in obedience to a look from his 
officer, placed it beneath the beam. All of these arrange- 
ments were made with immoveable composure, and they 
now seemed completed to the officer’s perfect satisfaction." 
40 “Come,” he said coolly to the Skinner, who, admiring 
the preparations, had stood a silent spectator of their prog- 


THE SPY 


385 


ress. He obeyed; and it was not until he found his neck- 
cloth removed, and hat thrown aside, that he took the 
alarm. But he had so often resorted to a similar expedient 
to extort information, or plunder, that he by no means felt 
the terror an unpractised man would have suffered, at these 5 
ominous movements. The rope was adjusted to his neck 
with the same coolness that formed the characteristic of the 
whole movement, and a fragment of board being laid upon 
the barrel, he was ordered to mount. 

“But it may fall,’’ said the Skinner, for the first time 10 
beginning to tremble. “I will tell you any thing — even 
how to surprise our party at the Pond, without all this 
trouble, and it is commanded by my own brother.” 

“I want no information,” returned his executioner (for 
such he now seemed really to be) throwing the rope re- 15 
peatediy over the beam, first drawing it tight so as to 
annoy the Skinner a little, and then casting the end from 
him, beyond the reach of any one. 

“This is joking too far,” cried the Skinner, in a tone of 
remonstrance, and raising himself on his toes, with the vain 20 
hope of releasing himself from the cord, by slipping his 
head through the noose. But the caution and experience 
of the refugee officer had guarded against this escape. 

“What have you done with the horse you stoleTrom me, 
rascal?” muttered the officer of the Cow-boys, throwing 25 
out columns of smoke while he waited for a reply. 

“He broke down in the chase,” replied the Skinner, 
quickly; “but I can tell you where one is to be found that 
is worth him and his sire.” 

“Liar! I will help myself when I am in need; you had 30 
better call upon God for aid, as your hour is short.” On 
concluding this consoling advice, he struck the barrel a 
violent blow with his heavy foot, and the slender staves 
flew in every direction, leaving the Skinner whirling in the 
air. As his hands were unconfined, he threw them upwards, 35 
and held himself suspended by main strength. 

“Come, Captain,” he said, coaxingly, a little huskiness 
creeping into his voice, and his knees beginning to shake 
with tremor, “end the joke; ’tis enough to make a 
laugh, and my arms begin to tire — I can’t hold on much 40 
longer.” 

2 c 


386 


THE SPY 


“Harkee, Mr. Pedler/’ said the refugee, in a voice that 
would not be denied, “ I want not your company. Through 
that door lies your road — inarch ! offer to touch that dog, 
and you’ll swing in his place, though twenty Sir Henries 
5 wanted your services.” So saying, he retired to the road 
with the Sergeant, as the pcdler precipitately retreated 
down the bank. 

Birch went no farther than a bush that opportunely 
offered itself as a screen to his person, while he yielded to 
lo an unconquerable desire to witness the termination of this 
extraordinary scene. 

Left alone, the Skinner began to throw fearful glances 
around, to espy the hiding-places of his tormentors. For 
the first time the horrid idea seemed to shoot through his 
15 brain that something serious was intended by the Cow-boy. 
He called entreatingly to be released, and made rapid and 
incoherent promises of important information, mingled 
with affected pleasantry at their conceit, which he would 
hardly admit to himself could mean any thing so dreadful 
20 as it seemed. But as he heard the tread of the horses 
moving on their course, and in vain looked around for hu- 
man aid, violent trembling seized his limbs, and his eyes 
began to start from his head with terror. He made a 
desperate effort to reach the beam; but, too much exhausted 
25 with his previous exertions, he caught the rope in his 
teeth, in a vain effort to sever the cord, and fell to the 
whole length of his arms. Here his cries were turned into 
shrieks — 

“ Help ! cut the rope ! Captain ! — Birch ! good pedler ! 
30 Down with the Congress ! — Sergeant ! — for God’s sake, 
help ! Hurrah for the king ! — Oh God ! oh God ! — 
mercy — mercy — mercy ! ” 

As his voice became suppressed, one of his hands en- 
deavoured to make its way between the rope and his neck, 
35 and partially succeeded; but the other fell quivering by 
his side. A convulsive shuddering passed over his whole 
frame, and he hung a hideous corse. 

Birch continued gazing on this scene with a kind of in- 
fatuation. At its close he placed his hands to his ears, and 
40 rushed towards the highway. Still the cries for mercy 
rang through his brain, and it was many weeks before his 


THE SPY 


387 


memory ceased to dwell on the horrid event. The Cow- 
boys rode steadily on their route, as if nothing had oc- 
curred; and the body was left swinging in the wind, until 
chance directed the footsteps of some straggler to the 
place. 5 


CHAPTER XXXm 


Green be the turf above thee, 

Friend of my better days ; 

None knew thee but to love thee, 

None named thee but to praise. • 

Halleck. 

While the scenes and events that we have recorded 
were occurring, Captain Lawton led his small party, by 
slow and wary marches, from the Four Corners to the front 
of a body of the enemy; where he so successfully manoeu- 
5 vred, for a short time, as completely to elude all their efforts 
to entrap him, and yet so disguised his own force as to ex- 
cite the constant apprehension of an attack from the 
Americans. This forbearing policy, on the side of the 
partisan, was owing to positive orders received from his 
lo commander. When Dunwoodie left his detachment, the 
enemy were known to be slowly advancing, and he directed 
Lawton to hover around them, until his own return, and 
the arrival of a body of foot, might enable him to intercept 
their retreat. 

IS The trooper discharged his duty to the letter, but with 
no little of the impatience that made part of his character 
when restrained from the attack. 

During these movements, Betty Flanagan guided her 
little cart with indefatigable zeal among the rocfe of West- 
20 Chester, now discussing with the sergeant the nature of 
evil spirits, and now combating with the surgeon sundry 
points of practice that were hourly arising between them. 
But the moment at length arrived that was to decide the 
temporary mastery of the field. A detachment of the 
25 eastern militia moved out from their fastnesses, and ap- 
proached the enemy. 

The junction between Lawton and his auxiliaries was 
made at midnight, and an immediate consultation was held 
between him and the leader of the foot-soldiers. After 
30 listening to the statements of the partisan, who rather 

388 


THE SPY 


389 


despised the prowess of his enemy, the commandant of the 
party determined to attack the British, the moment day- 
light enabled him to reconnoitre their position, without 
waiting for the aid of Dunwoodie and his horse. So soon 
as this decision was made, Lawton retired from the build- s 
ing where the consultation was held, and rejoined his own 
small command. 

The few troopers who were with the captain had fastened 
their horses in a spot adjacent to a haystack, and laid their 
own frames under its shelter, to catch a few hours’ sleep. lo 
But Dr. Sitgreaves, Sergeant Hollister, and Betty Flanagan 
were congregated at a short distance by themselves, having 
spread a few blankets upon the dry surface of a rock. 
Lawton threw his huge frame by the side of the surgeon, 
and folding his cloak about him, leaned his head upon one 1 5 
hand, and appeared deeply engaged in contemplating the 
moon as it waded through the heavens. The Sergeant 
was sitting upright, in respectful deference to the surgeon, 
and the washerwoman was now raising her head, in order 
to vindicate some of her favourite maxims, and now com- 20 
posing it on one of her gin-casks, in a vain effort to sleep. 

“So, Sergeant,” continued Sitgreaves, following up a 
previous position, “if you cut upwards, the blow, by losing 
the additional momentum of your weight, will be less 
destructive, and at the same time effect the true purposes 25 
of war, that of disabling your enemy.” 

“Pooh! pooh! Sargeant dear,” said the washerwoman, 
raising her head from the blanket; “where’s the harm of 
taking a life, jist in the way of battle? Is it the rig’lars 
who’ll show favour, and they fighting? Ask Captain 3° 
Jack there, if the country could get the liberty, and the 
boys no strike their might. I wouldn’t have them dispar- 
age the whiskey so much.” 

“It is not to be expected that an ignorant female like 
yourself, Mrs. Flanagan,” returned the surgeon, with a 35 
calmness that only rendered his contempt more stinging to 
Betty, “can comprehend the distinctions of surgical science; 
neither are you accomplished in the sword exercise; so 
that dissertations upon the judicious use of that weapon 
could avail you nothing, either in theory or in practice.” 40 

“It’s but little I care, any way, for such botherments; 


390 


THE SPY 


but fighting is no play, and a body shouldn’t be partic’lar 
how they strike, or who they hit, so it’s the inimy.” 

“Are we likely to have a warm day. Captain Lawton?” 

“ ’Tis more than probable,” replied the trooper; “these 
5 militia seldom fail of making a bloody field, either by their 
cowardice or their ignorance, and the real soldier is made 
to suffer for their bad conduct.” 

“Are you ill, John?” said the surgeon, passing his hand 
along the arm of the Captain, until it instinctively settled 
loon his pulse; but the steady, even beat announced neither 
bodily nor mental malady. 

“Sick at heart, Archibald, at the folly of our rulers, in 
believing that battles are to be fought, and victories won, 
by fellows who handle a musket as they would a flail; lads 
15 who wink when they pull a trigger, and form a line like a 
hoop-pole. The dependence we place on these men spills 
the best blood of the country.” 

The surgeon listened with amazement. It was not the 
matter, but the manner that surprised him. The trooper 
20 had uniformly exhibited, on the eve of battle, an anima- ! 
tion, and an eagerness to engage, that was directly at vari- ; 
ance with the admirable coolness of his manner at other ^ 
times. But now there was a despondency in the tones of 
his voice, and a listlessness in his air, that was entirely dif- 
25 ferent. The operator hesitated a moment, to reflect in ' 
what manner he could render this change of service in fur- : 
thering his favourite system available, and then continued — ■ 

“It would be wise, John, to advise the Colonel to keep at . 
long shot; a spent ball will disable — ” 

30 “No!” exclaimed the trooper, impatiently; “let the 

rascals singe their whiskers at the muzzles of the British • 
muskets, if they can be driven there. — But, enough of 
them. Archibald, do you deem that moon to be a world . 
like this, containing creatures like ourselves?” 

35 “Nothing more probable, dear John; we know its size, 
and, reasoning from analogy, may easily conjecture its use. 
Whether or not its inhabitants have attained to that per- ' 
fection in the sciences which we have acquired, must depend s 
greatly on the state of its society, and in some measure upon ■ 
43 its physical influences.” 

“I care nothing about their learning, Archibald; but i, 


THE SPY 


391 


’tis a wonderful power that can create such worlds, and 
control them in their wanderings. I know not why, but 
there is a feeling of melancholy excited within me as I gaze 
on that body of light, shaded as it is by your fancied sea 
and land. It seems to be the resting-place of departed 5 
spirits \” 

‘‘Take a drop, darling,’’ said Betty, raising her head 
once more, and proffering her own bottle; “ ’tis the night 
damp that chills the blood — and then the talk with the 
cursed militia is no good for a fiery temper. Take a drop, 10 
darling, and ye’ll sleep till the morning. I fed Roanoke 
myself, for I thought ye might need hard riding the mor- 
row.” 

“ ’Tis a glorious heaven to look upon,” continued the 
trooper, in the same tone, disregarding the offer of Betty, 15 
“and ’tis a thousand pities that such worms as men should 
let their vile passions deface such goodly work.” 

“You speak the truth, dear John; there is room for all 
to live and enjoy themselves in peace, if each could be 
satisfied with his own. Still, war has its advantages ; it 20 
particularly promotes the knowledge of surgery; and — ” 

“There is a star,” continued Lawton, still bent on his own 
ideas, “struggling to glitter through a few driving clouds; 
perhaps that too is a world, and contains its creatures en- 
dowed with reason like ourselves; think you that they 25 
know of war and bloodshed?”® 

“If I might be so bold,” said Sergeant Hollister, mechan- 
ically raising his hand to his cap, “ ’tis mentioned in the 
good book, that the Lord made the sun to stand still while 
Joshua was charging the enemy,® in order, sir, as I suppose, 3° 
that they might have daylight to turn their flank, or perhaps 
make a feint in the rear, or some such manoeuvre. Now, 
if the Lord would lend them a hand, fighting cannot be 
sinful. I have often been nonplussed, though, to find that 
they used them chariots instead of heavy dragoons, who 35 
are, in all comparison, better to break a line of infantry, and 
who,' for the matter of that, could turn such wheel-carriages, 
and, getting in the rear, play the very devil with them, 
horse and all.” 

“It is because you do not understand the construction of 40 
those ancient vehicles, Sergeant Hollister, that you judge 


392 


THE SPY 


of them so erroneously,” said the surgeon. “They were 
armed with sharp weapons that protruded from their 
wheels, and which broke up the columns of foot, like dis- 
membered particles of matter. I doubt not, if similar 
5 instruments were affixed to the cart of Mrs. Flanagan, that 
great confusion might be carried into the ranks of the 
enemy thereby, this very day.” 

“ It’s but little that the mare would go, and the rig’lars 
firing at her,” grumbled Betty, from under her blanket; 
lo “when we got the plunder, the time we drove them through 
the Jarseys it was, I had to back the baste up to the dead; 
for the divil the foot would she move, forenent° the firing, 
wid her eyes open. Roanoke and Captain Jack are good 
enough for the red-coats, letting alone myself and the mare.” 
15 A long roll of the drums, from the hill occupied by the 
British, announced that they were on the alert; and a 
corresponding signal was immediately heard from the 
Americans. The bugle of the Virginians struck up its 
martial tones; and in a few moments both the hills, the 
20 one held by the royal troops, and the other by their enemies, 
were alive with armed men. Day had begun to dawn, and 
preparations were making by both parties, to give and to 
receive the attack. In numbers the Americans had greatly 
the advantage; but in discipline and equipments the 
25 superiority was entirely with their enemies. The arrange- 
ments for the battle were brief, and by the time the sun had 
risen the militia moved forward. 

The ground did not admit of the movements of horse; 
and the only duty that could be assigned to the dragoons 
30 was to watch the moment of victory, and endeavour to 
improve the success to the utmost. Lawton soon got his 
warriors into the saddle ; and leaving them to the charge of 
Hollister, he rode himself along the line of foot, who, 
in varied dresses, and imperfectly armed, were formed in a 
35 shape that in some degree resembled a martial array. A 
scornful smile lowered about the lip of the trooper as he 
guided Roanoke with a skilful hand through the windings 
of their ranks; and when the word was given to march, he 
turned the flank of the regiment, and followed close in the 
40 rear. The Americans had to descend into a little hollow, 
and rise a hill on its opposite side, to approach the enemy. 


THE SPY 


393 , 


The descent was made with tolerable steadiness, until 
near the foot of the hill, when the royal troops advanced 
in a beautiful line, with their flanks protected by the forma- 
tion of the ground. The appearance of the British drew a 
fire from the militia, which was given with good effect, and 5 
for a moment staggered the regulars. But they were rallied 
by their officers, and threw in volley after volley with great 
steadiness. For a short time the fire was warm and de- 
structive, until the English advanced with the bayonet. 
This assault the militia had not sufficient discipline to 10 
withstand. Their line wavered, then paused, and finally 
broke into companies and fragments of companies, keeping 
up at the same time a scattering and desultory fire. 

Lawton witnessed these operations in silence, nor did he 
open his mouth until the field was covered with parties of 15 
the flying Americans. Then, indeed, he seemed stung with 
the disgrace thus heaped upon the arms of his country. 
Spurring Roanoke along ‘the side of the hill, he called to the 
fugitives, in all the strength of his powerful voice. He 
pointed to the enemy, and assured his countrymen that 20 
they had mistaken the way. There was such a mixture of 
indifference and irony in his exhortations, that a few paused 
in surprise — more joined them, until, roused by the 
example of the trooper, and stimulated by their own spirit, 
they demanded to be led against their foe once more. 25 

‘‘Come on, then, my brave friends !’’ shouted the trooper, 
turning his horse’s head towards the British line, one flank 
of which was very near him; “come on, and hold your fire 
until it will scorch their eyebrows.” 

The men sprang forward, and followed his example, 30 
neither giving nor receiving a fire until they had come 
within a very short distance of the enemy. An English 
sergeant, who had been concealed by a rock, enraged with 
the audacity of the officer who thus dared their arms, 
stepped from behind his cover, and advancing within a few 35 
yards of the trooper, levelled his musket — 

“Fire, and you die !” cried Lawton, spurring his charger, 
which leaped forward at the instant. The action and the 
tone of his voice shook the nerves of the Englishman, who 
drew his trigger with an uncertain aim. Roanoke sprang 40 
with all his feet from the earth, and, plunging, ielLheadlong 


394 


THE SPY 


and lifeless at the feet of his destroyer. Lawton kept his 
feet, standing face to face with his enemy. The latter 
presented his bayonet, and made a desperate thrust at the 
trooper’s heart. The steel of their weapons emitted sparks 
5 of fire, and the bayonet flew fifty feet in the air. At the 
next moment its owner lay a quivering corpse. 

‘‘Come on!” shouted the trooper, as a body of English 
appeared on the rock, and threw in a close fire; “ come on !” 
he repeated, and brandished his sabre fiercely. Then his 
lo gigantic form fell backward, like a majestic pine yielding to 
the axe; but still, as he slowly fell, he continued to wield 
his sabre, and once more the deep tones of his voice were 
heard uttering, “Come on!” 

The advancing Americans paused aghast, and, turning, 
15 they abandoned the field to the royal troops. 

It was neither the intention nor the policy of the English 
commander to pursue his success, for he well knew that 
strong parties of the Americans w6uld soon arrive; accord- 
ingly, he only tarried to collect his wounded, and, forming 
20 in a squar.e, he commenced his retreat towards the shipping. 
Within twenty minutes of the fall of Lawton, the ground 
was deserted by both English and Americans. 

When the inhabitants of the country were called upon 
to enter the field, they were necessarily attended by such 
25 surgical advisers as were furnished by the low state of the 
profession in the interior at that day. Dr. Sitgreaves en- 
tertained quite as profound a contempt for the medical 
attendants of the militia as the Captain did of the troops 
themselves. He wandered, therefore, around the field, 
30 casting many a glance of disapprobation at the slight 
operations that came under his eye; but when, among the 
flying troops, he found that his comrade and friend was 
nowhere to be seen, he hastened back to the spot at which 
Hollister was posted, to enquire if the trooper had returned. 
35 Of course, the answer was in the negative. Filled with a 
thousand uneasy conjectures, the surgeon, without regard- 
ing, or indeed without at all reflecting upon any dangers 
that might lie in his way, strode over the ground at an 
enormous rate, to the point where he knew the final struggle 
40 had been. Once before, the surgeon had rescued his 
friend from death in a similar situation; and he felt a 


THE SPY 


395 


secret joy in his own conscious skill, as he perceived Betty 
Flanagan seated on the ground, holding in her lap the head 
of a man whose size and dress he knew could belong only 
to the trooper. As he approached the spot, the surgeon 
became alarmed at the aspect of the washerwoman. Her 5 
little black bonnet was thrown aside, and her hair, which 
was already streaked with grey, hung around her face in 
disorder. 

“John! dear John!’’ said the doctor, tenderly, as he 
bent and laid his hand upon the senseless wrist of the 10 
trooper, from which it recoiled with an intuitive knowledge 
of his fate; “John! dear John!” where are you hurt? — 
can I help you?” 

“Yee talk to the senseless clay,” said Betty, rocking her 
body, and unconsciously playing with the raven ringlets of 15 
the trooper’s hair; “it’s no more will he hear, and it’s but 
little will he mind yee’r probes and yee’r med’cines. Och 
hone, och hone !° — and where will be the liberty now ? or 
who will there be to fight the battle, or gain the day ? ” 

“John!” repeated the surgeon, still unwilling to believe 20 
the evidence of his unerring senses, “dear John, speak to 
me ; say what you will, that you do but speak. Oh, God ! 
he is dead; would that I had died with him !” 

“There is but little use in living and fighting now,” said 
Betty; “both him and the baste! see, there is the poor 25 
cratur, and here is the master! I fed the horse with my 
own hands, the day ; and the last male that he ate was of • 
my own cooking. Och hone ! och hone ! — that Captain 
Jack should live to be killed by the rig’lars !” 

“John! my dear John!” said the surgeon, with con- 30 
vulsive sobs, “thy hour has come, and many a more prudent 
man survives thee ; but none better, nor braver. Oh ! 
John, thou wert to me a kind friend, and very dear: it is 
unphilosophical to grieve; but for thee, John, I must weep, 
even in bitterness of heart !” 35 

The doctor buried his face in his hands, and for several 
minutes sat yielding to an ungovernable burst of sorrow; 
while the washerwoman gave vent to her grief in words; 
moving her body in a kind Of writhing, and playing with 
different parts of her favourite’s dress with her fingers. 40 
“And who’ll there be to incourage the boys now?” she 


396 


THE SPY 


said. “ Oh ! Captain Jack ! Captain Jack ! yee was the 
sowl of the troop, and it was but little we know’d of the 
danger, and yee fighting. Och ! he was no maly mouth’d, 
that quarrelled wid a widowed woman for the matter of a 
5 burn in the mate, or the want of a breakfast. Taste a drop, 
darling, and it may be, ’twill revive yee. Och ! and he’ll 
nivir taste agin; here’s the doctor, honey, him yee used to 
blarney wid, wapeing as if the poor sowl would die for yee. 
Och ! he’s gone, he’s gone; and the liberty is gone wid him.” 
lo A thundering sound of horses’ feet came rolling along 
the road which led near the place where Lawton lay, and 
directly the whole body of Virginians appeared, with 
Dunwoodie at their head. The news of the captain’s 
fate had reached him; for the instant that he saw 
15 the body he halted the squadron, and dismounting, ap- 
proached the spot. The countenance of Lawton was not 
in the least distorted, but the angry frown which had 
lowered over his brow during the battle was fixed eVen in 
death. His frame was composed, and stretched as in sleep. 
20 Dunwoodie took hold of his hand, and gazed a moment in 
silence; his own dark eye kindled, and the paleness which 
had overspread his features was succeeded by a spot of 
deep red in either cheek. 

“With his own sword will I avenge him!” he cried, en- 
25 deavouring to take the weapon from the hand of Lawton; 
but the grasp resisted his utmost strength. “It shall be 
• buried with him. Sitgreaves, take care of our friend, 
while I revenge his death.” 

The Major hastened back to his charger, and led the way 
30 in pursuit of the enemy. 

While Dunwoodie had been thus engaged, the body of 
Lawton lay in open view of the whole squadron. He was 
a universal favourite, and the sight inflamed the men to 
the utmost: neither officers nor soldiers possessed that 
35 coolness which is necessary to ensure success in military 
operations; but they spurred ardently after their enemies, 
burning with a wish for vengeance. 

The English were formed in a hollow square, which con- 
tained their wounded, who were far from numerous, and 
40 were marching steadily across a very uneven country as 
the dragoons approached. The horse charged in column, 


THE SPY 


397 


and were led by Dunwoodie, who, burning with revenge, 
thought to ride through their ranks, and scatter them at a 
blow. But the enemy knew their own strength too well, 
and, standing firm, they received the charge on the points 
of their bayonets. The horses of the Virginians recoiled, 5 
and the rear rank of the foot throwing in a close fire, the 
Major, with a few men, fell. The English continued their 
retreat the momenfi they were extricated from their assail- 
ants; and Dunwoodie, who was severely, but not danger- 
ously wounded, recalled his men from further attempts, 10 
which, in that stony country, must necessarily be fruitless. 

A sad duty remained to be fulfilled. The dragoons 
retired slowly through the hills, conveying their wounded 
commander, and the body of Lawton. The latter they 
interred under the ramparts of one of the Highland forts, 15 
and the former they consigned to the tender care of his 
afflicted bride. 

Many weeks were gone before the Major was restored to 
sufficient strength to be removed. During those weeks, 
how often did he bless the moment that gave him a right to 20 
the services of his beautiful nurse ! She hung around his 
couch with fond attention; administered with her own 
hands every prescription of the indefatigable Sitgreaves, 
and grew each hour in the affections and esteem of her 
husband. An order from Washington soon sent the troops 25 
into winter-quarters, and permission was given to Dun- 
woodie to repair to his own plantation, with the rank of 
lieutenant-colonel, in order to complete the restoration of 
his health. Captain Singleton made one of the party; and 
the whole family retired from the active scenes of the war, 30 
to the ease and plenty of the Major’s own estate. Before 
leaving Fishkill, however, letters were conveyed to them, 
through an unknown hand, acquainting them with Henry’s 
safety and good health; and also that Colonel Wellmere had 
left the continent for his native island, lowered in the esti- 35 
mation of every honest man in the royal army. 

It was a happy winter for Dunwoodie, and smiles once 
more began to play around the lovely mouth of Frances. 


f 

CHAPTER XXXIV 

^Midst furs, and silks, and jewels’ sheen. 

He stood, in simple Lincoln green, 

The centre of the glittering ring ; 

And Snowdon’s knight is Scotland’s king ! 

Lady of the Lake. 

The commencement of the following year was passed, on 
the part of the Americans, in making great preparations, in 
conjunction with their allies, to bring the war to a close. 
In the south, Greene and Rawdon made a bloody campaign, 
5 that was highly honourable to the troops of the latter, but 
which, by terminating entirely to the advantage of the 
former, proved him to be the better general of the two. 

New York was the point that was threatened by the 
allied armies; and Washington, by exciting a constant 
lo apprehension for the safety of that city, prevented such 
reinforcements from being sent to Cornwallis as would have 
enabled him to improve his success. 

At length, as autumn approached, every indication was 
given that the final moment had arrived. 

15 The French forces drew near to the royal lines, passing 
through the Neutral Ground, and threatened an attack in 
the direction of Kingsbridge, while large bodies of Ameri- 
cans were acting in concert. By hovering around the 
British posts, and drawing nigh in the Jerseys, they seemed 
20 to threaten the royal forces from that quarter also. The 
preparations partook of the nature of both a siege and a 
storm. But Sir Henry Clinton, in the possession of inter- 
cepted letters from Washington, rested securely within his 
lines, and cautiously disregarded the solicitations of Corn- 
25 wallis for succour. 

It was at the close of a stormy day in the month of 
September, that a large assemblage of officers was collected 
near the door of a building that was situated in the heart 
of the American troops, who held the Jerseys. The age, 

398 


THE SPY 


399 


the dress, and the dignity of deportment of most of these 
warriors, indicated them to be of high rank: but to one in 
particular was paid a deference and obedience that an- 
nounced him to be of the highest. His dress was plain, but 
it bore the usual military distinctions of command. He s 
was mounted on a noble animal, of a deep bay; and a 
group of young men, in gayer attire, evidently awaited his 
pleasure, and did his bidding. Many a hat was lifted as 
its owner addressed this officer; and when he spoke, a pro- 
found attention, exceeding the respect of mere professional lo 
etiquette, was exhibited on every countenance. At length 
the General raised his own hat, and bowed gravely to all 
around him. The salute was returned, and the party dis- 
persed, leaving the officer without a single attendant, except 
his body-servants and one aid-de-camp. Dismounting, he 15 
stepped back a few paces, and for a moment viewed the 
condition of his horse with the eye of one who well under- 
stood the animal, and then, casting a brief but expressive 
glance at his aid, he retired into the building, followed by 
that gentleman. 20 

On entering an apartment that was apparently fitted for 
his reception, he took a seat, and continued for a long time 
in a thoughtful attitude, like one in the habit of communing 
much with himself. During this silence, the aid-de-camp 
stood in expectation of his orders. At length the General 25 
raised his eyes, and spoke in those low placid tones that 
seemed natural to him. 

‘‘Has the man whom I wished to see arrived, sir?” 

“ He waits the pleasure of your excellency.” 

“ I will receive him here, and alone, if you please,” 3 ° 

The aid bowed and withdrew. In a few minutes the 
door again opened, and a figure, gliding into the apartment, 
stood modestly at a distance from the General, without 
speaking. His entrance was unheard by the officer, who 
sat gazing at the fire, still absorbed in his own meditations. 35 
Several minutes passed, when he spoke to himself in an 
under-tone — 

“To-morrow we must raise the curtain, and expose our 
plans. May heaven prosper them !” 

A slight movement made by the stranger caught his ear, 40 
and he turned his head, and saw that he was not alone. He 


400 


THE SPY 


pointed silently to the fire, towards which the figure ad- 
vanced, although the multitude of his garments, which 
seemed more calculated for disguise than comfort, rendered 
its warmth unnecessary. A second mild and courteous 
5 gesture motioned to a vacant chair, but the stranger re- 
fused it with a modest acknowledgment. Another pause 
followed, and continued for some time. At length the 
officer arose, and opening a desk that was laid upon the 
table near which he sat, took from it a small, but appar- 
lo ently heavy bag. 

“Harvey Birch,” he said, turning to the stranger, “the 
time has arrived when our connexion must cease; hence- 
forth and for ever we must be strangers.” 

The pedler dropped the folds of the great-coat that con- 
15 cealed his features, and gazed for a moment earnestly at 
the face of the speaker; then dropping his head upon his 
bosom, he said, meekly — 

“ If it be your excellency’s pleasure.” 

“It is necessary. Since I have filled the station which 
20 I now hold, it has become my duty to know many men, 
who, like yourself, have been my instruments in procuring 
intelligence. You have I trusted more than all; I early 
saw in you a regard to truth and principle, that, I am 
pleased to say, has never deceived me — you alone know 
25 my secret agents in the city, and on your fidelity depend, 
not only their fortunes, but their lives.” 

He paused, as if to reflect, in order that full justice 
might be done to the pedler, and then continued — 

“ I believe you are one of the very few that I have em- 
30 ployed who have acted faithfully to our cause; and, while 
you have passed as a spy of the enemy, have never given 
intelligence that you were not permitted to divulge. To 
me, and to me only of all the world, you seem to have acted 
with a strong attachment to the liberties of America.” 

35 During this address, Harvey gradually raised his head 
from his bosom, until it reached the highest point of eleva- 
tion; a faint tinge gathered in his cheeks, and, as the 
officer concluded, it was diffused over his whole countenance 
in a deep glow, while he stood proudly swelling with his 
40 emotions, but with eyes that modestly sought the feet of 
the speaker. 


THE SPY 


401 


“ It is now my duty to pay you for these services ; hitherto 
you have postponed receiving your reward, and the debt 
has become a heavy one — I wish not to undervalue your 
dangers ; here are a hundred doubloons ; you will remember 
the poverty of our country, and attribute to it the smallness 5 
of your pay,” 

The pedler raised his eyes to the countenance of the 
speaker; but, as the other held forth the money, he moved 
back, as if refusing the bag. 

“ It is not much for your services and risks, I acknowl- 10 
edge,” continued the General, ^'but it is all that I have to 
offer; at the end of the campaign, it may be in my power 
to increase it.” 

‘‘Does your excellency think that I have exposed my 
life, and blasted my character, for money?” 15 

“If not for money, what then?” 

“ What has brought your excellency into the field ? For 
what do you daily and hourly expose your precious life to 
battle and the halter ? What is there about me to mourn, 
when such men as you risk their all for our country? No 20 
— no — no — not a dollar of your gold will I touch; poor 
America has need of it all !” 

The bag dropped from the hand of the officer, and fell at 
the feet of the pedler, where it lay neglected during the 
remainder of the interview. The officer looked steadily at 25 
the face of his companion, and continued — 

“There are many motives which might govern me, that 
to you are unknown. Our situations are different; I am 
known as the leader of armies — but you must descend into 
the grave with the reputation of a foe to your native land. 30 
Remember that the veil which conceals your true character 
cannot be raised in years — perhaps never.” 

Birch again lowered his face, but there was no yielding 
of the soul in the movement. 

“You will soon be old; the prime of your days is already 35 
past; what have you to subsist on?” 

“These!” said the pedler, stretching forth his hands, 
that were already embrowned with toil. 

“But those may fail you; take enough to secure a sup- 
port to your age. Remember your risks and cares. 1 40 
have told you that the characters of men who are much 
2 D 


402 


THE SPY 


esteemed in life depend on your secrecy; what pledge can 
I give them of your fidelity?’’ 

“Tell them,” said Birch, advancing, and unconsciously 
resting one foot on the bag, “tell them that I would not 
5 take the gold !” 

The composed features of the officer relaxed into a smile 
of benevolence, and he grasped the hand of the pedler 
firmly. 

“Now, indeed, I know you; and although the same 
lo reasons which have hitherto compelled me to expose your 
valuable life will still exist, and prevent my openly assert- 
ing your character, in private I can always be your friend; 
fail not to apply to me when in want or suffering, and so 
long as God giveth to me, so long will I freely share with a 
15 man who feels so nobly and acts so well. If sickness or 
want should ever assail you, and peace once more smile 
upon our efforts, seek the gate of him whom you have so 
orten met as Harper, and he will not blush to acknowledge 
you in his true character.” 

20 ‘‘It is little that I need in this life,” said Harvey; “so 
long as God gives me health and honest industry, I can 
never want in this country; but to know that your ex- 
cellency is my friend, is a blessing that I prize more than 
all the gold of England’s treasury.” 

25 The officer stood for a few moments in the attitude of 
intense thought. He then drew to him the desk, and wrote 
a few lines on a piece of paper, and gave it to the pedler. 

“That Providence destines this country to some great 
and glorious fate I must believe, while I witness the patriot- 
30 ism that pervades the bosoms of her lowest citizens,” he 
said. “ It must be dreadful to a mind like yours to descend 
into the grave, branded as a foe to liberty; but you already 
know the lives that would be sacrificed, should your real 
character be revealed. It is impossible to do you justice 
35 now, but I fearlessly entrust you with this certificate ; 
should we never meet again, it may be serviceable to your 
children.” 

“Children!” exclaimed the pedler, “can I give to a 
family the infamy of my name 1” 

40 The officer gazed at the strong emotion he exhibited with 
pain, and he made a slight movement towards the gold ; but 


THE SPY 


403 


it was arrested by the expression of his companion’s face. 
Harvey saw the intention, and shook his head, as he con- 
tinued more mildly — 

“It is, indeed, a treasure that your excellency gives me; 
it is safe too. There are men living who could say that my 5 
life was nothing to me, compared to your secrets. The 
paper that I told you was lost I swallowed when taken last 
by the Virginians. It was the only time I ever deceived 
your excellency, and it shall be the last; yes, this is, indeed, 
a treasure to me; perhaps,” he continued, with a melan- 10 
choly smile, “it may be known after my death who was my 
friend; but if it should not, there are none to grieve for me.” 

“Remember,” said the officer, with strong emotion, 
“that in me you will always have a secret friend; but 
openly I cannot know you.” 15 

“I know it, I know it,” said Birch; “I knew it when I 
took the service. ’Tis probably the last time that I shall 
ever see your excellency. May God pour down his choicest 
blessings on your head!” He paused, and moved towards 
the door. The officer followed him with eyes that ex- 20 
pressed deep interest. Once more the pedler turned, and 
seemed to gaze on the placid, but commanding features of 
the General with regret and reverence, and then, bowing 
low, he withdrew. 

The armies of America and France were led by their illus- 25 
trious commander against the enemy under Cornwallis, and 
terminated a campaign in triumph that had commenced in 
difficulties. Great Britain soon after became disgusted 
with the war; and the independence of the States was 
acknowledged. 3° 

As years rolled by, it became a subject of pride among 
the different actors in the war, and their descendants, to 
boast of their efforts in the cause which had confessedly 
heaped so many blessings upon their country; but the 
name of Harvey Birch died away among the multitude of 35 
agents, who were thought to have laboured in secret against 
the rights of their countrymen. His image, however, was 
often present to the mind of the powerful chief, who alone 
knew his true character; and several times did he cause 
secret enquiries to be made into the other’s fate, one of 40 
which only resulted in any success. By this he learned 


404 


THE SPY 


that a pedler of a different name, but similar appearance, 
was toiling through the new settlements that were spring- 
ing up in every direction, and that he was struggling with 
the advance of years and apparent poverty. Death pre- 
5 vented further enquiries on the part of the officer, and a 
long period passed before he was again heard of. 


CHAPTER XXXV 


Some village Hampden, that with dauntless breast 
The little tyrant of his fields withstood — 

Some mute, inglorious Milton here may rest ; 

Some Cromwell, guiltless of his country’s blood. 

Gray. 

It was thirty-three years after the interview which we 
have just related that an American army was once more 
arrayed against the troops of England®; but the scene was 
transferred from the banks of the Hudson to those of the 
Niagara. 5 

, The body of Washington had long lain mouldering in the 
tomb ; but as time was fast obliterating the slight impres- 
sions of political enmity or personal envy, his name was 
hourly receiving new lustre, and his worth and integrity 
each moment became more visible, not only to his country- lo 
men, but to the world. He was already the acknowledged 
hero of an age of reason and truth; and many a young 
heart, amongst those who formed the pride of our army in 
1814 , was glowing with the recollection of the one great 
name of America, and inwardly beating with the sanguine 15 
expectation of emulating, in some degree, its renown. In 
no one were these virtuous hopes more vivid than in the 
bosom of a young officer v/ho stood on the table-rock, con- 
templating the ^eat cataract, on the evening of the 25 th 
of July of that bloody year. The person of this youth was 20 
tall and finely moulded, indicating a just proportion between 
strength and activity ; his deep black eyes were of a search- 
ing and dazzling brightness. At times, as they gazed upon 
the flood of waters that rushed tumultuously at his feet, 
there was a stern and daring look that flashed from them, 25 
which denoted the ardour of an enthusiast. But this 
proud expression was softened by the lines of a mouth, 
around which there played a suppressed archness, that 
partook of feminine beauty, s His hair shone in the setting 

405 


406 


THE SPY 


sun like ringlets of gold, as the air from the falls gently 
moved the rich curls from a forehead, whose whiteness 
showed that exposure and heat alone had given their darker 
hue to a face glowing with health. There was another 
5 officer standing by the side of this favoured youth; and 
both seemed, by the interest they betrayed, to be gazing, 
for the first time, at the wonder of the western world. A 
profound silence was observed by each, until the companion 
of the officer that we have described suddenly started, and 
lo pointing eagerly with his sword into the abyss beneath, 
exclaimed — • 

‘‘ See ! Wharton, there is a man crossing in the very 
eddies of the cataract, and in a skiff no bigger than an 
egg-shell.” 

15 ‘‘ He has a knapsack — it is probably a soldier,” returned 

the other. '‘Let us meet him at the ladder. Mason, and 
learn his tidings.” 

Some time was expended in reaching the spot where the 
adventurer was intercepted. Contrary to the expectations 
20 of the young soldiers, he proved to be a man far advanced 
in life, and evidently no follower of the camp. His years 
might be seventy, and they were indicated more by the 
thin hairs of silver that lay scattered over his wrinkled 
brow,' than by any apparent failure of his system. His 
25 frame was meagre and bent; but it was the attitude of 
habit, for his sinews were strung with the toil of half a 
century. His dress was mean, and manifested the economy 
of its owner, by the number and nature of its repairs. On 
his back was a scantily furnished pack, that had led to the 
30 mistake in his profession. A few words of salutation, and, 
on the part of the young men, of surprise, that one so aged 
should venture so near the whirlpools of the cataract, were 
exchanged; when the old man enquired, with a voice that 
began to manifest the tremor of age, the news from the 
35 contending armies. 

“We whipped the red-coats here the other day, among 
the grass on the Chippewa® plains,” said the one who was 
called Mason; “since when, we have been playing hide-and- 
go-seek with the ships; but we are now marching back 
40 Horn where we started, shaking our heads, and as surly as 
the devil.” 


THE SPY 


407 


“ Perhaps you have a son among the soldiers,” said his 
companion, with a milder demeanour, and an air of kind- 
ness ; “ if so, tell me his name and regiment, and I will take 
you to him.” 

_ The old man shook his head, and, passing his hand over 5 
his silver locks, with an air of meek resignation, he an- 
swered — 

“No; I am alone in the world !” 

“You should have added, Captain Dunwoodie,” cried his 
careless comrade, “if you could find either; for nearly half 10 
our army has marched down the road, and may be, by this 
time, under the walls of Fort George, for any thing that we 
know to the contrary.” 

The old man stopped suddenly, and looked earnestly 
from one of his companions to the other; the action being 15 
observed by the soldiers, they paused also. 

“Did I hear right?” the stranger uttered, raising his 
hand to screen his eyes from the rays of the setting sun; 
“what did he call you?” 

“ My name is Wharton Dunwoodie,” replied the youth, 20 
smiling. 

The stranger motioned silently for him to remove his 
hat, which the youth did accordingly, and his fair hair 
blew aside like curls of silk, and opened the whole of his 
ingenuous countenance to the inspection of the other. 25 

“ ’Tis like our native land !” exclaimed the old man with 
vehemence, “ improving with time ; — God has blessed both.” 

“Why do you stare thus. Lieutenant Mason?” cried 
Captain Dunwoodie, laughing a little; “you show more 
astonishment than when you saw the falls.” 3 ° 

“ Oh, the falls ! — they are a thing to be looked at on a 
moonshiny night, by your aunt Sarah and that gay old 
bachelor. Colonel Singleton; but a fellow like myself never 
shows surprise, unless it may be at such a touch as this.” 

The extraordinary vehemence of the stranger’s manner 35 
had passed away as suddenly as it was exhibited, but he 
listened to this speech with deep interest, while Dunwoodie 
replied a little gravely — 

“Come, come, Tom, no jokes about my good aunt, I beg; 
she is kindness itself; and I have heard it whispered that 4 ° 
her youth was not altogether happy.” 


408 


THE SPY 


'‘Why, as to rumour,” said Mason, "there goes one in 
Accomac,® that Colonel Singleton offers himself to her 
regularly every Valentine’s day; and there are some who 
add, that your old great-aunt helps his suit.” 

5 "Aunt Jeanette!” said Dunwoodie, laughing; "dear 
good soul, she thinks but little of marriage in any shape, I 
believe, since the death of Dr. Sitgreaves. There were some 
whispers of a courtship between them formerly, but it ended 
in nothing but civilities, and I suspect that the whole story 
lo arises from the intimacy of Colonel Singleton and my father. 
You know they were comrades in the horse, as indeed was 
your own father.” 

" I know all that, of course ; but you must not tell me 
that the particular, prim bachelor goes so often to General 
15 Dunwoodie’s plantation merely for the sake of talking old 
soldier with your father. The last time I was there, that 
yellow, sharp-nosed housekeeper of your mother’s took me 
into the pantry, and said that the colonel was no despisable 
match, as she called it, and how the sale of his plantation 
20 in Georgia had brought him — oh. Lord 1 I don’t know how 
much.” 

"Quite likely,” returned the captain; "Katy Haynes is 
no bad calculator.” 

They had stopped during this conversation, in uncertainty 
25 whether their new companion was to be left or not. 

The old man listened to each word as it was uttered, with 
the most intense interest; but, towards the conclusion of 
_the dialogue, the earnest attention of his countenance 
changed to a kind of inward smile. He shook his head, and, 
30 passing his hand over his forehead, seemed to be thinking 
of other times. Mason paid but little attention to the 
expression of his features, and continued — 

"To me, she is selfishness embodied!” 

"Her selfishness does but little harm,” returned Dun- 
35 woodie. " One of her greatest difficulties is her aversion 
to the blacks. She says, that she never saw but one that 
she liked.” 

"And who was he?” 

"His name was Csesar; he was a house-servant of my 
40 late grandfather Wharton. You don’t remember him, I 
believe; he died the same year with his master, while we 


THE SPY 


409 


were children. Katy yearly sings his requiem, and, upon 
my word, I believe he deserved it. I have heard some- 
thing of his helping my English uncle, as we call General 
Wharton, in some difficulty that occurred in the old war. 
My mother always speaks of him with great affection. 5 
Both Caesar and Katy came to Virginia with my mother 
when she married. My mother was — ” 

“An angel!” interrupted the old man, in a voice that 
startled the young soldiers by its abruptness and energy. 

“ Did you know her ?” cried the son, with a glow of pleas- 10 
ure on his cheek. 

The reply of the stranger was interrupted by sudden and 
heavy explosions of artillery, which were immediately fol- 
lowed by continued volleys of small-arms, and in a few 
minutes the air was filled with the tumult of a warm and 15 
well-contested battle. 

The two soldiers hastened with precipitation towards the 
camp, accompanied by their new acquaintance. The ex- 
citement and anxiety created by the approaching fight 
prevented a continuance of the conversation, and the three 20 
held their way to the army, making occasional conjectures 
on the cause of the fire, and the probability of a general 
engagement. During their short and hurried walk. Captain 
Dunwoodie, however, threw several friendly glances at the 
old man, who moved over the ground with astonishing 25 
energy for his years, for the heart of the youth was warmed 
by an eulogium on a mother that he adored. In a short 
time, they joined the regiment to which the officers be- 
longed, when the captain, squeezing the stranger’s hand, 
earnestly begged that he would make enquiries after him 3° 
on the following morning, and that he might see him in his 
own tent. Here they separated. 

Every thing in the American camp announced an ap- 
proaching struggle. At a distance of a few miles, the 
sound of cannon and musketry was heard above the roar 35 
of the cataract. The troops were soon in motion, and a 
movement made to support the division of the army which 
was already engaged. Night had set in before the reserve 
and irregulars reached the foot of Lundy’s Lane,° a road 
that diverged from the river and crossed a conical emi- 40 
nence, at no great distance from the Niagara highway. 


410 


THE SPY 


The summit of this hill was crowned with the cannon of 
the British, and in the flat beneath was the remnant of 
Scott’s® gallant brigade, which for a long time had held an 
unequal contest with distinguished bravery. A new line 
5 was interposed, and one column of the Americans directed 
to charge up the hill, parallel to the road. This column 
took the English in flank, and, bayoneting their artillerists, 
gained possession of the cannon. They were immediately 
joined by their comrades, and the enemy was swept from 
lo the hill. But large reinforcements were joining the Eng- 
lish general momentarily, and their troops were too brave 
to rest easy under the defeat. Repeated and bloody 
charges were made to recover the guns, but in all they 
were repulsed with slaughter. During the last of these 
15 struggles, the ardour of the youthful captain whom we 
have mentioned urged him to lead his men some distance 
in advance, to scatter a daring party of the enemy. He 
succeeded, but in returning to the line missed his lieutenant 
from the station that he ought to have occupied. Soon 
20 after this repulse, which was the last, orders were given to 
the shattered troops to return to the camp. The British 
were nowhere to be seen, and preparations were made to 
take in such of the wounded as could be moved. At this 
moment Wharton Dunwoodie, impelled by affection for 
25 his friend, seized a lighted fusee, and taking two of his men, 
went himself in quest of his body, where he was supposed 
to have fallen. Mason was found on the side of the hill, 
seated with great composure, but unable to walk from a 
fractured leg. Dunwoodie saw and flew to the side of his 
30 comrade, exclaiming — 

“ Ah ! dear Tom, I knew I should find you the nearest 
man to the enemy.” 

'' Softly, softly; handle me tenderly,” replied the lieu- 
tenant; “no, there is a brave fellow still nearer than my- 
35 self, and who he can be I know not. He rushed out of our 
snioke, near my platoon, to make a prisoner or some such 
thing, but, poor fellow, he never came back; there he lies 
just over the hillock. I have spoken to him several times, 
but I fancy he is past answering.” 

40 Dunwoodie went to the spot, and to his astonishment 
beheld the aged stranger. 


THE SPY 


411 


: “It is the old man who knew my mother!’’ cried the 

youth; “for her sake he shall have honourable burial; lift 
him, and let him be carried in; his bones shall rest on native 
I soil.” 

f The men approached to obey. He was lying on his 5 
j ■ back, with his face exposed to the glaring light of the fusee ; 

, his eyes were closed, as if in slumber; his lips, sunken with 
! years, were slightly moved from their natural position, but 
it seemed more like a smile than a convulsion which had 
caused the change. A soldier’s musket lay near him; his 10 
hands were pressed upon his breast, and one of them con- 
: tained a substance that glittered like silver. Dunwoodie 
r stooped, and removing the limbs, perceived the place where 
; the bullet had found a passage to his heart. The subject 
1;, of his last care was a tin box, through which the fatal lead 15 
!. had gone; and the dying moments of the old man must 
have passed in drawing it from his bosom. Dunwoodie 
'• opened it, and found a paper in which, to his astonish- 
: ment, he read the following : — 

' “ Circumstances of political importance, which involve 20 

j the lives and fortunes of many, have hitherto kept secret 
' what this paper now reveals. Harvey Birch has for years 
been a faithful and unrequited servant of his country. 

L Though man does not, may God reward him for his con- 
duct 1 ♦ 25 

‘ “Geo. Washington.” 

I It was the spy of the neutral ground, who died as he 
I had lived, devoted to his country, and a martyr to her 
liberties. 








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NOTES 


Those of the following notes signed [C-N.] are the ones which Cooper h im self 
wrote in the revised edition of The, Spy published in 1849. 

xxvii : 5. its original publication. The Spy was published 
in New York on the 22d of December, 1821, when Cooper was 
thirty-two years old. 

xxvii : 32. took part with the crown. The Tories. In 
England many men, notably such Whigs as Edmund Burke, 
sympathized with the American colonists throughout the 
Kevolution. 

xxviii : 11. Mr. , the narrator of the anecdote. John 

Jay (1745-1829), the eminent American statesman and jurist. 
Jay was a friend of Cooper, and an ardent admirer of his early 
novels. 

xxix : 34. the first of a . . . long series. The novel was 
Precaution,, published in November, 1820. 

XXX : 23. in this edition. In 1849, two years before his 
death. Cooper published his final revision of The Spy. 

XXX : 30. literature not the least. Between 1821 and 
1849 came Irving, Poe, and the earlier works of Bryant, Long- 
fellow, and Lowell. 

xxxi : 1. manuscript that was barely dry. All of Cooper’s 
stories were written in haste, and seldom were revised before 
going to press. Can you detect signs of this haste in The Spy 9 

xxxi : 7. the actors are hurried off the scene. Compare this 
marked weakness of The Spy with the conclusions of others of 
Cooper’s novels ; also with the last chapters of many of Scott’s 
stories, notably Quentin Durward. 

413 


414 


NOTES 


xxxi : 13. that gallant soldier. General Winfield Scott. 

xxxi : 19. Aztecs. A year before writing this introduction 
a treaty of peace had been signed between Mexico and the 
United States (Feb. 2, 1848). 

xxxi : 23. no enemy but the one within. Almost a proph- 
ecy of the Civil War which began twelve years after Cooper 
wrote this preface. 

1 : 9. West-Chester. As each state of the American Union 
has its own counties, it often happens that there are several 
which bear the same name. The scene of this tale is in New 
York, whose county of West-Chester is the nearest adjoining to 
the city. [C.N.] 

1 : 23. New York. The city of New York is situated on an 
island called Manhattan ; but it is, at one point, separated from 
the county of West-Chester by a creek of only a few feet in 
width. The bridge at this spot is called King’s Bridge. It was 
the scene of many skirmishes during the war, and is alluded to 
in this tale. Every Manhattanese knows the difference between 
“Manhattan Island” and “the island of Manhattan.” The 
first is applied to a small district in the vicinity of Corlaer’s 
Hook, while the last embraces the whole island, or the city and 
county of New York, as it is termed in the laws. [C.N.] 

3:41. about to utter more. What do these few words suggest? 

4 : 13. improvements. The word “ improvements” is used 
by the Americans to express every degree of change in convert- 
ing land from its state of wilderness to that of cultivation. In 
this meaning of the word it is an improvement to fell the trees ; 
and it is valued precisely by the supposed amount of the cost. 
[C.N.] 

4 : 24. vallise. Same as valise. 

4 : 40. surtout. A man’s overcoat. 

5:9. his own hair. In contrast to a wig, such as gentlemen 
of the eighteenth century commonly wore. 


NOTES 


415 


7 : 35. Rochambeau. On July 10, 1780, Rochambeau arrived 
at Newport, Rhode Island, with 6000 troops, the first substan- 
tial aid sent by France to the United States. 

7 : 40. Gates and Cornwallis. On August 16, 1780, Corn- 
wallis had defeated Gates in the decisive battle of Camden. 

16 : 33. eclat. • Splendor, striking effect. 

17 : 35. Hebe. The daughter of Zeus, and the goddess of 
youth and mirth. 

18:41. the Germans into custody. At the battle of Ben- 
nington, fought on August 16, 1777. 

21 : 38. Andr6. It was on October 2 that Andr^ had been 
’ hanged at Tappan, only twenty miles from the scene of Cooper’s 
story. 

22 : 7. White Plains. Twenty-two miles northeast of New 
York City. 

24 : 36. Queen Street. The Americans changed the names 
of many towns and streets at the Revolution, as has since been 
done in France. Thus, in the city of New York, Crown Street 
became Liberty Street ; King Street, Pine Street ; and Queen 
Street, then one of the most fashionable quarters of the town, 
Pearl Street. Pearl Street now (1849) is chiefly occupied by 
the auction dealers and the wholesale dry-goods merchants 
for warehouses and counting-rooms. [C.N.] 

29 : 6. Tiger river. Tarleton had defeated General Sumter 
at Catawba Fords on August 18, 1780. 

30 : 3. Morrisania. At the time of the story a village on the 
extreme southern edge of West-Chester County, but since 1874 
incorporated with New York City in the Borough of the Bronx. 

34 : 26. statuary. One who makes statues. 

39 : 34. Sir Henry. Sir Henry Clinton, then in command 
of the British army in New York City. 

44 : 29. Sound. An island more than forty leagues in 
length lies opposite the coasts of New York and Connecticut. 


416 


JSrOTES 


The arm of the sea which separates it from the main land is 
technically called a sound, and in that part of the country, 
par excellence. The Sound. This sheet of water varies in its 
breadth from five to thirty miles. [C.N.] 

47 : 8. Carolus III. Spanish coins with “images” of Charles 
III. (1716-1788) stamped on them. 

69 : 14. horse and foot. There died a few years since, in 

Bedford, West-Chester, a yeoman named Elisha H . This 

person was employed by Washington as one of his most con- 
fidential spies. By the conditions of their bargain, H was 

never to be required to deal with third parties, since his risks 
were too imminent. He was allowed to enter also into the 
service of Sir Henry Clinton ; and so much confidence had 
Washington in his love of country and discretion that he was 
often intrusted with the minor military movements, in order 
that he might enhance his value with the English general, by 

communicating them. In this manner, H had continued 

to serve for a long period, when chance brought him into the 
city (then held by the British) at a moment when an expedi- 
tion was about to quit it, to go against a small post established 
at Bedford, his native village, where the Americans had a depot 
of provisions. H easily ascertained the force and destina- 

tion of the detachment ordered on this service, but he was at a 
loss in what manner to communicate his information to the 
officer in command at Bedford, without betraying his own true 
character to a third person. There was not time to reach 
Washington, and under the circumstances he finally resolved 
to hazard a short note to the American commandant stating 
the danger and naming the time when the attack might be 
expected. To this note he even ventured to affix his own ini- 
tials E. H., though he had disguised the hand under a belief 
that, as he knew himself to be suspected by his countrymen, 
it might serve to give more weight to his warning. His family 


NOTES 


417 


being at Bedford, the note was transmitted with facility, and 
arrived in good season, H himself remaining in New York. 

The American commandant did what every sensible officer, 
in a similar case, would have done. He sent a courier with the 
note to Washington, demanding orders, while he prepared his 
little party to make the best defence in his power. 

The headquarters of the American army were, at that time, 
in the Highlands. Fortunately, the express met Washington 
on a tour of observation near their entrance. The note was 
given to him, and he read it in the saddle, adding, in pencil, 
“Believe all that E. H. tells you, George Washington.” He 
returned it to the courier, with an injunction to ride for life or 
death. 

The courier reached Bedford' after the British had made 
their attack. The commandant read the reply, and put it in 
his pocket. The Americans were defeated, and their leader 

killed. The note of H , with the line written on it by 

Washington, was found on his person. 

The following day H was summoned to the presence of 

Sir Henry Clinton. After the latter had put several general 
questions, he suddenly gave the note to the spy, and asked if 
he knew the handwriting, and demanding who the E. H. was. 
“ It is Elijah Hadden, the spy you hanged yesterday, at Powles 
Hook. ’ ’ The readiness of this answer, connected with the fact 
that a spy having the same initials had been executed the day 

before, and the coolness of H saved him. Sir Henry 

Clinton allowed him to quit his presence, and he never saw 
him afterwards. [C.N.] 

72 : 33. Argus. In Greek mythology Argus, also called 
Panoptes (all-seeing), had a hundred eyes, some of which 
were always awake. See the story of lo and Zeus. 

94 : 31. AEsculapius. Among the Greeks and Romans the 
god of medicine and healing. 

2 £ 


418 


NOTES 


.95 : 18. carotid artery. One of the arteries of the neck 
which conveys blood to the head. 

103 : 19. Hudson. The scene of this tale is between these 
two waters, which are but a few miles from each other. [C. N.] 

106 : 19. peperage log. The black gum or tupelo tree. 

106 : 22. Grimalkin. A name once frequently given to a 
cat. See Macbeth^ Act I, Sc. 1. 

112 : 1. Zounds. Abbreviated from ’swounds, or God’s 
wounds. Formerly used as an oath or exclamation. 

115 : 11. Galen. A famous physician of antiquity (130- 

201 ?). 

117 : 10. philippic. An interesting word to examine in any . 
large dictionary. Compare tantalize^ hector^ meander. 

117 : 16. battle of the Plains. The battle of White Plains, 
or Chatterton Hill, was fought on October 28, 1776. 

118 : 20. the dark one. The Devil. 

127 : 14. Captain Kidd. The notorious Captain William 
Kidd of piratical fame (c. 1650-1701). 

133 : 9. an empiric. One who maintains that experience 
and practice rather than theory are the foundation stones of 
science. 

133 : 23. predicary. Katy’s blunder for predicament. 
Watch for others on the next six pages. 

133 ; 41. secundum artem. Artificially ; not a natural death. 

134 : 25. yarbs. A common dialectal form of herbs. 

134 : 31. rig’lars. In the dialect of the day, the regulars., 
or troops of Great Britain. 

138 : 16. basilisk. The legend connected with this word is 
well worth reading in the dictionary. See alsa the story of 
Medusa. 

139 : 23. females. Compare Scott’s use of the same word 
in the Waverley novels. Do we use the word female now as 
did writers of a century ago ? 


NOTES 


419 


141 : 7. phlebotomy. The letting of blood from a vein as a 
remedy for disease. 

146 : 19. leech. A physician. 

• 146 : 21. Juno. The wife of Jupiter, and the most dignified 
of the goddesses. 

150 : 25. Lazaretto. The prison hospital. 

156 : 22. Dutchess. Dutchess County lies east of the Hud- 
son, forty miles north of the scene of our story. 

159 : 19. cornelian. A blood-red stone. 

160 : 22. punctilio. Nice conduct, — punctiliousness. 

165 : 14. duresse. Constraint. 

166 : 3. prophetic assertion. During the life of Cooper the 
“prophetic assertion” of Dr. Sitgreaves remained unfulfilled, 
for it was not until twelve years after the novelist’s death that 
Lincoln published the Emancipation Proclamation. 

168 : 24. Trinity. The fire which destroyed Trinity Church 
in New York did not “ rage ” until some days after the British 
had captured the city. The building which was burned in 1776 
stood on the site of the present Trinity on Broadway, near 
Wall St. See Bryant, History of the United States^ Vol. III., 

p. 610. 

182 : 38. Queen Street. See note, p. 24, 1. 36. 

185 : 26. julep. A sweet drink. For mint julep, see 'any 
large dictionary. 

186 : 27. Hippocrates. A celebrated Greek physician of an- 
tiquity, sometimes called the Father of Medicine. 

190 : 6. jolly boys. The following three songs were written 
by Cooper for the story. 

202 : 11. Jezebel. The wife of Ahab, King of Israel (1 
Kings xvi. 31). In later biblical history she is represented as 
cruel, bloodthirsty^ and sacrilegious. Her name has become a 
synonym for a bold, brawling woman ; a scold, a shrew. 

204 : 19. De Lancey’s men. The partisan corps, called 


420 


NOTES 


Cow-boys in the parlance of the country, was commanded by 
a Colonel de Lancey. This gentleman, for such he was by 
birth and education, rendered himself odious to the Americans 
by his fancied cruelty, though there is no evidence of his being 
guilty of any acts unusual in this species of warfare. 

Colonel de Lancey belonged to a family of the highest conse- 
quence in the American colonies, his uncle having died in the 
administration of the government of that of New York. He 
should not be confounded with other gentlemen of his name 
and family, many of whom served in the royal army. His 
cousin, Colonel Oliver de Lancey, was, at the time of our tale, 
adjutant-general of the British forces in America, having suc- 
ceeded to the unfortunate Andr^. The Cow-boys were some- 
times called Befugees, in consequence of their having taken 
refuge under the protection of the crown. [C.N.] 

205 : 40. Paulding’s party. Andr^, as is well known, was 
arrested by three countrymen, who were on the lookout for 
predatory parties of the enemy ; the principal man of this party 
was named Paulding. The disinterested manner in which they 
refused the offers of their captive is a matter of history. [C.N.] 

206 : 39. the law of Moses — forty, save one. ‘ ‘ Forty stripes 

he may give him, and not exceed.” (Deut. xxv. 3.) “ Of the 

Jews five times received I forty stripes save one.’ ’ (2 Cor. xi. 24. ) 

214 : 4. my God and Him. Do you know to whom Birch 
refers by the word Him ? What effect has this vague and 
somewhat mysterious reference upon the reader of the story ? 

217 : 41. Beelzebub. In the New Testament the chief of the 
demons, but here, as is the general custom to-day, the word is 
simply another name for the Devil. It is a most interesting 
word to examine for changes of meaning and for etymology. 

227 : 16. an emollient, rather than as a succulent. That is, 
as a soothing poultice for the body, rather than as a food for 
the mind. 


NOTES 


421 


231 : 24. the Colossus of Rhodes. Among the seven won- 
ders of the world was the gigantic statue erected in 280 b.c. by 
the people of Rhodes at the mouth of their harbor. It is said 
to have been of bronze, cast in separate pieces, and to have 
been finally destroyed by an earthquake. According to a later 
legend the legs of the statue straddled the harbor mouth, so 
that between them vessels passed into the city of Rhodes. 

236 : 10. Fort Washington. An important fort during the 
American Revolution, occupying the highest part of Manhattan 
Island, which now is between 181st and 182d streets in New 
York City. The surrender of this fort to Sir William Howe on 
November 16, 1776, was regarded as one of the greatest military 
misfortunes of the Americans during the war. 

236 : 37. for deeds of darkness. What opinion are you be- 
ginning to form of Harvey Birch ? 

239 : 14. Doctor Divinitatis. As a doctor of divinity, that 
is, as a minister or rector. 

247 : 2. the good Mr. Whitefield. An English evangelist 
and founder of the Calvinistic Methodists. He is said to have 
preached more than 18,000 sermons, many of which he delivered 
in America to enormous congregations in the open air. 

249 ; 6. Cornet. Formerly a subaltern commissioned rank 
in the British cavalry, so called because the cornet carried the 
flag. In the infantry the equivalent rank was the ensign. 

255 : 20. epaulette. A shoulder-piece or ornamental badge 
worn on the shoulder. 

260 : 7. continental. The paper money issued by Congress 
was familiarly called continental money. This term continen- 
tal was applied to the army, the congress, the ships of war, 
and, in short, to almost everything of interest which belonged 
to the new government. It would seem to have been invented 
as the opposite of the insular position of the mother country. 
[C.N.] 


422 


NOTES 


269 : S3, a satellite of England. This was the attitude of 
many Americans during the first twenty or thirty years after 
the Revolution. Thus Cooper’s first novel, Precaution., pub- 
lished in 1820, pictured English life and people, and was merely 
a weak imitation of the poorer novels of English authors of 
the day. 

270 : 37. hammercloth. An interesting word to investigate 
in one of our larger dictionaries. 

270:39. “ lion couchant.” A phrase quoted from the lan- 

guage of heraldry, in which “couchant” means generally 
“ lying down with the head raised.” 

272 : 2. phoenix. This word (also spelled phenix) should 
challenge your curiosity. Two minutes with the Century Dic- 
tionary will reward you with a fascinating and world-knowm 
legend of ancient mythology. 

276 : 15. Arnold’s heart. The capture of Andr6 on Septem- 
ber 23, 1780, disclosed the fact that Benedict Arnold was a traitor 
to the American cause. How long before “ Betty’s” conversa- 
tion with “ Captain Jack ” had this taken place ? 

286 : 35. nose-jewelled. Wearing rings, with jewels on them, 
in the nose. 

286 : 39. the interior of America. The ignorance of Euro- 
peans concerning distances in the United States is still a jest 
with Americans who travel abroad. 

287 : 28. Scylla . . . Charybdis. Two fearful sea-monsters 
described in the Odyssey (XII., 73 ff.). So untiringly did they 
guard the Straits of Messina that no ship was able to pass un- 
harmed through the passage. 

290 : 1. a brown study. A re very ; mental abstraction ; why 
brown., rather than red or blue ? 

291 : 1. at this hour. Cooper was writing this chapter prob- 
ably in the summer of 1820. 

292 : 14. Highlands. The Highlands of the Hudson, espe- 


NOTES 


423 


cially at Stony Point and West Point, were the scene of stirring 
events during the Revolution. 

295 : 3. above or below. The American party was called 
the party belonging “ above,” and the British that of “ below.” 
The terms had reference to the course of the Hudson. [C.N.] 

295 : 10. Tappan. An expansion in the Hudson River north 
of Irvington, and about ten miles from New York City. 

297 : 13. Fishkill. A village on the Hudson, fifty-eight miles 
north of New York City. It is one of the oldest towns in the 
state, and is replete with historic interest. 

308 : 21. Heath. After the battle of White Plains, Washing- 
ton placed General William Heath in command of the troops in 
the Highlands. 

309 : 37. Hale. An American officer of this name was de- 
tected within the British lines, in disguise, in search of military 
information. He was tried and executed, as stated in the text, 
as soon as the preparations could be made. It is said that he 
was reproached under the gallows with dishonoring the rank 
he held by his fate. “ What a death for an officer to die !” 
said one of his captors. “ Gentlemen, any death is honorable 
when a man dies in a cause like that of America,” was the answer. 

Andr6 was executed amid the tears of his enemies ; Hale 
died unpitied and with reproaches in his ears; and yet one 
was the victim of ambition and the other of devotion to his 
country. Posterity will do justice between them. [C.N.] 

312 : 19. of the people. In America justice is administered 
in the name of “the good people,” the sovereignty residing 
with them. [C.N.] 

313 : 9. Sing-Sing. A village on the east bank of the 
Hudson River, thirty miles north of New York. In 1901 the 
name of the town was changed permanently to Ossining. 

314 : 9. dancing upon nothing. Dangling from the gallows 
in the air. 


424 


NOTES 


327:17. Eastern. By “eastern” is meant the states of 
New England, which, being originally settled by Puritans, still 
retain many distinct shades of character. [C.N.] 

328 : 14. the elect. According to the theology of Calvin, 
those who were chosen or “elected” by God to be saved, 
that is, to go to heaven. 

334 : 11. put out. Published. 

353 : 4. vidette. A sentinel, generally mounted, stationed 
at an outpost to watch for approaching danger. 

353 : 15. cardinal. See any large dictionary. 

378 : 24. palisadoes. An older form for palisade {q.'o.'). 

391 : 26. war and bloodshed. To what, do you think, is this 
unusual style of conversation leading ? For what is Cooper 
preparing the reader ? 

391 : 30. the enemy. See Joshua x. 13. 

392 : 12. forenent. Against ; opposite to. 

395 : 18. Och hone. Or 0 hone; an Irish interjection of 
lamentation. 

405 : 3. the troops of England. In the “War of 1812.” 

406 : 37. Chippewa plains. Here General Scott defeated 
the British on July 6, 1814. 

408 : 2. Accomac. A county of Virginia lying east of 
Chesapeake Bay. 

409 : 39. Lundy’s Lane. The name of a roadway about two 
miles from Niagara Falls, along which a battle was fought on 
July 25, 1814, between American and British forces. 

410 : 3. Scott’s brigade. General Winfield Scott (1786- 
1866), commander of the American forces in the battle of 
Lundy’s Lane. 


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ing, Teachers’ Training School, Baltimore, Md. 

Lowell’s Vision of Sir Launfal. Edited by Herbert E. Bates, Manual 
Training High School, Brooklyn, N.Y. 

Macaulay’s Essay on Addison. Edited by C. W. French, Principal of 
Hyde Park High School, Chicago, 111. 

Macaulay’s Essay on Clive. Edited by J. W. Pearce, Assistant Pro- 
fessor of English in Tulane University. 

Macaulay’s Life of Johnson. Edited by William Schuyler, Assistant 
Principal of the St. Louis High School. 

Macaulay’s Essay on Milton. Edited by C. W. French. 

Macaulay’s Essay on Warren Hastings. Edited by Mrs. M. J. Frick, 
Los Angeles, Cal. 

Macaulay’s Lays of Ancient Rome, and other Poems. Edited by Frank- 
lin T. Baker, Teachers College, Columbia University. 

Memorable Passages from the Bible (Authorized Version). Selected 
and edited by Fred Newton Scott, Professor of Rhetoric in the 
University of Michigan. 

Milton’s Comus, Lycidas, and other Poems. Edited by Andrew J. 
George. 

Milton’s Paradise Lost, Books I and II. Edited by W. I. Crane, Steele 
High School, Dayton, O. 

Old English Ballads. Edited by William D. Armes, of the University 
of California. 

Out of the Northland. Edited by Emilie Kip Baker. 

Palgrave’s Golden Treasury of Songs and Lyrics. 

Plutarch’s Lives of Caesar, Brutus, and Antony. Edited by Martha 
Brier, Teacher of English in the Polytechnic High School, Oak- 
land, Cal. 

Poe’s Poems. Edited by CHARLES W. Kent, Linden Kent Memorial 
School, University of Virginia. 

Poe’s Prose Tales (Selections from). 

Pope’s Homer’s Iliad. Edited by Albert Smyth, Head Professor of Eng- 
lish Language and Literature, Central High School, Philadelphia, Pa. 

Pope’s The Rape of the Lock. Edited by Elizabeth M. King, Louisi- 
ana Industrial Institute, Ruston, La. 

Ruskin’s Sesame and Lilies and The King of the Golden River. Edited 
by Herbert E. Bates. 

Scott’s Ivanhoe. Edited bv Alfred M. Hitchcock. 


Pocket Series of English Classics — Continued 


Scott’s Lady of the Lake. Edited by Elizabeth A. Packard, Oak- 
land, Cal. 

Scott’s Lay of the Last Minstrel. Edited by Ralph H. Bowles. 

Scott’s Marmion. Edited by George B. Aiton, State Inspector of High 
Schools for Minnesota. 

Scott’s Quentin Durward. Edited by ARTHUR Llewellyn ENO, In- 
structor in the University of Illinois. 

Scott’s The Talisman. Edited by Frederick Treudley, State Normal 
College, Ohio University. 

Shakespeare’s As You Like It. Edited by Charles Robert GL\ston. 

Shakespeare’s Hamlet. Edited by L. A. Sherman, Professor of English 
Literature in the University of Nebraska. 

Shakespeare’s Henry V. Edited by Ralph Hartt Bowles, Phillips 
Exeter Academy, Exeter, N.H. 

Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar. Edited by George W. Hufford and 
Lois G. Hufford, High School, Indianapolis, Ind. 

Shakespeare’s Macbeth. Edited by C. W. French. 

Shakespeare’s Merchant of Venice. Edited by Charlotte W. Under- 
wood, Lewis Institute, Chicago, 111. 

Shakespeare’s Richard II. Edited by James Hugh Moffa'IT. 

Shakespeare’s The Tempest. Edited by S. C. Newsom. 

Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night. Edited by Edward P. Morton, Assist- 
ant Professor of English in the University of Indiana. 

Shelley and Keats (Selections from). Edited by S. C. Newsom. 

Southern Poets (Selections from). Edited by W. L. Weber, Professor 
of English Literature in Emory College, 0:rford, Ga. 

Spenser’s Faerie Queene, Book I. Edited by George Armstrong 
Wauchope, Professor of English in the South Carolina College. 

Stevenson’s Treasure Island. Edited by H. A. Vance, Professor of Eng- 
lish in the University of Nashville. 

Swift’s Gulliver’s Travels. Edited by Clifton Johnson. 

Tennyson’s Idylls of the King. Edited by W. T. Vlymen, Principal 
of Eastern District High School, Brooklyn, N.Y. 

Tennyson’s Shorter Poems. Edited by Charles Read Nutter, In- 
structor in English at Harvard University ; sometime Master in Eng- 
lish at Groton School. 

Tennyson’s The Princess. Edited by WiLSON Farrand, Newark Acad- 
emy, Newark, N.J. 

Thackeray’s Henry Esmond. Edited by John Bell Henneman, Uni- 
versity of the South, Sewanee, Tenn. 

Washington’s Farewell Address, and Webster’s First Bunker Hill Ora- 
tion. Edited by WILLIAM T. PECK, Classical High School, Provi- 
dence, R.I. 

John Woolman’s Journal. 

Wordsworth’s Shorter Poems. Edited by Edward Fulton, Assistant 
Professor of Rhetoric in the University of Illinois. 


THE MACMILLAN COMP 

64-66 FIFTH AVENUE, HEW YOP-^ 


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